Unexpected Peculiarity
by tauphe
Summary: Despite the ancient remnants of blue blood running through her veins, Ginevra seems doomed to live a deary life of a peasant.That is, until her brother surprises her with a chance for a Season at Court!A Ginevra Weasley who is more Slytherin than Gryffindor,this is a journey of political ambition and romance no one expected from the youngest Weasley. Can she ensnare the king? AU
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: Who thought I had disappeared? *raises hand* Well I'm back again, with a new plot-bunny scampering around in my head. So, here you go. I'm trying to write more, but I'm not promising anything with my other stories. Maybe, one day, I'll get around to writing more for them, but for now, enjoy what this story has to offer. I'm really excited, I've been obsessed with the Victorian Era for some time now, and I'm just getting around to writing about the life of courts and all its intrigues.**

**This story is AU, and because of which some characters might be portrayed a little out of character. I'll try to keep them as close to character as possible, but understand that some things must be portrayed differently in this universe than the universe lovely J.K. Rowling created.**

**While on that subject, I give you a disclaimer. Nothing I write is for profit, I am but a poor soul that wishes these characters I play with were mine and actually real. All belongs to J.K. Rowling. I bow to her copyright laws.**

**. ... .**

Ginevra Weasley was always a rather strange girl. Having been the first girl born out of the Weasley line in generations, one could hardly blame her. As a young toddler, she rarely cried. Instead, Molly Weasley found that unlike her sons, who were all attached to her hip throughout their infancy, Ginevra was a wanderer. Many days were spent by Molly, running around like a chicken without a head, trying to find where her only daughter had disappeared to.

As Ginevra grew older, she realized that living in a house with her six siblings meant it was easy to get lost in the shuffle. Not only that, but since she was the youngest and also the only girl, she was easy prey to her older brothers. However, it wasn't long until Ginerva began to realize the potential opportunities she had as the youngest, weakest child.

At the tender age of four, Ginevra held herself with an air of intelligence that would surprise most people, if any had bothered to pay attention. However neither her mother nor father had time to notice the exceptional nature of their daughter. Her father was a _gentilhomme_, a younger son of a noble house, and spent his time dealing and selling in various rare muggle items from foreign countries. He was often abroad, and so most of the child rearing was left to Molly. Her mother, despite her downtrodden appearance nowadays, was the youngest daughter of the Prewett line, which had once been one of the most influential lines in all of magical Britain. Ginerva's grandfather had been an earl, and had been most displeased when his youngest daughter went against his wishes and married below her station.

One day, Ginevra found herself at the mercy of her older twin brothers. Frederic and George often found amusement in coming up with different ways to harass Ginevra. She whined less than Ronald and was also less likely to tattletale; a much preferable target. This time around, they convinced Ginevra to climb trees with them. Ginevra was terrified of heights, the twins convinced her that they would be right behind her to catch her if she were to fall.

"Okay..." Ginevra trailed off nervously. "Give me a boost."

"Well certainly, sister dear," replied George, as he lifted her to the lowest branch. Ginevra climbed easily.

"Now, don't look down! Just keep climbing!" said Frederic. Ginevra obeyed her brother's command, climbing until she reached a branch that could properly support her weight.

"Fred! George! I did it!" She called down to them. She was surprised when she heard them start to laugh.

"Good job, Gin! Good luck-"

"-getting down!" and with that, they ran back to the house, leaving Ginevra sitting in the tree with no one the wiser about it.

Fear encompassed Ginevra's small chest and she looked down at the ground which suddenly seemed so far away. Climbing up the tree was one matter; climbing down was another entirely. She quickly realized that she couldn't make herself move. To put it simply, she was stuck.

Hours passed with Ginevra still in the tree. Twilight approached, and young Ginevra thought about the unfairness of her situation. Stuck in the lowly position as the youngest child of a large brood, a _girl_ nonetheless, she realized that she would be in this predicament or others like it quite often in the future. And in that moment, she cursed the future that fate seemed to have put her in. She was more than that, more than _this_, and she would prove it. Somehow.

. ... .

At five, her magic began to blossom.

One day while attempting to escape the pranks of her older brothers, her anger and resentment triggered something inside of her. She had been running through the tall grasses on the Weasley land, her brothers in hot pursuit behind her, when suddenly she felt a vein of power run through her body. The sensation was alien; she often felt weak and helpless, but this had been different. She stopped fleeing, turning to face her brothers, who were not far behind.

Frederic and George, thinking she had given up, sped towards her with looks of mischievous glee on their faces. Ginevra leveled her chin at them and let loose the power of her glare, holding onto the string of power she felt inside her. With all the resentment she could muster, she flung it towards them.

Her power, unseen to the eye, hit Frederic and George with a physical blow. Both were knocked off their feet and flown back. On their backs, stunned by the unexpected turn of events, both noticed with horror that the boogers in their noses seemed to grow in size, form wings and begin attacking them before even a thought could string together.

Ginevra watched with satisfaction and awe at the result of her power. Frederic and George both managed to their feet, and hightailed it back to the Burrow, screaming for their mother the whole way.

Molly was shocked at the early display of strong magic from her daughter; Ronald, who was two years older than Ginevra, hadn't even come into his magic yet. Frederic and George only had recently as well. It was perhaps the first time Molly noticed her daughter's peculiarity. But once again, it was brushed off in importance as the tasks of raising her children weighed heavily on her once again.

. ... .

Over the years, Ginevra immersed herself in what made her unique to her family; her magic. All of her brothers, with the exception of Charles and William, had very weak and depleted magic. One night when discussing it with Charles, who was by far her favorite brother, they hypothesized it came from the dominance of Weasley blood; blood which notoriously produced Squibs. On the other side of the coin, her and Charles decided that it was the Prewett blood, ancient and noble, which encouraged her, Charles and William's magic to grow, like the gentle heat of the sun to a flower.

When Charles left for an apprenticeship with a dragon tamer, and then William for knighthood, Ginevra took it the worst. Now trapped with Percy, Frederic, George, and Ronald, Ginevra tried her best to make herself disappear. And anything Ginevra put her mind to, she found her way to succeed in it.

Over the next two years, she managed to become almost invisible; sliding in and out of rooms with feline grace, and becoming skillful and cunning in her revenge plots against her brothers. Long gone was the Ginevra who openly displayed her frustration with bat-boogey hexes. Instead, she found more passive-aggressive ways to seek retribution. A few tears when Molly passed her door at night, a few words in a letter to a girl Frederic had his eye on signed in his name, the quick turn of a hand with hot sauce over her brother's eggs...really, it was becoming too easy.

Though she missed her two eldest brothers with an ache in her chest, Ginevra found that without the two shining stars of Molly's eye around, she quickly gained status in Molly's life. The way Ginevra looked at it, whether consciously or subconsciously, Molly had realized that Ginevra was the last of her children that would go to make something of themselves. There was something different in Ginevra's eyes, something that physically burned, which her other brothers lacked.

The years flew by for Ginevra. Her brothers acquired local apprenticeships, and eventually Percy moved out to start his own life and family. As a girl, she stayed home with Molly and learned how to run a household, and the social etiquette of a girl with her station. She kept in close contact with her two eldest brothers through letters. Charles, now a professional dragon trainer in his own right, was making a sizeable living and name for himself. The king had even personally requested his expertise with dragons, offering a place at the palace for him. Ginevra felt very proud of her brother's accomplishment, although she thought of him living at court with envy. With her as sheltered as she was, she yearned for the excitement of court life.

Throughout the years, Ginevra had always possessed the eerie ability to get what she wanted. By trickery and manipulation, or simply the smiling face of fortune, whatever she desired would somehow come to pass.

That's why when Charles appeared a week before her sixteenth birthday, she really shouldn't have been surprised. But she was.

"Brother!" she exclaimed, when a loud CRACK! alerted her to his appearance. She had been outside at the time of his arrival, reading a book on Ancient Runes under the very tree Frederic and George had tricked her up all those years ago.

"Ginevra, dearest!" Charles greeted her, opening his arms in invitation. Happily, Ginevra entered his arms for embrace. Before long, Charles pulled her away from him, his hands on either side of her arms. "Look at how you have grown! You've turned into quite a gem, my dear Ginny." Ginevra felt her face flush at the praise of her older brother, along with the endearing nickname he saved for special occasions.

"Come, come inside with me. I must greet mother," he said, and she happily trailed behind him, glad to be sharing oxygen with someone who she could actually stand, for once.

Molly was, needless to say, overjoyed by the surprise arrival of her oldest son. After greeting him at length, she began to mutter about how she must prepare a grand dinner to welcome him home.

"Now, now mother. That is actually what I came to speak with you about. While I would love some of your homemade cooking, I must implore you to save your cooking miracles for one week hence," Charles said, grinning and casting a sideways glance at Ginevra.

Charles' request sent Molly for a loop. "Whatever do you mean, Charles?" she asked.

Ginevra, who had been paying close attention, felt butterflies in her stomach as she awaited his reply. She had figured out what her older brother was planning before he managed to surprise her.

"Well, if my memory serves me correct, a week from today is someone's very special day. Ginevra's sixteenth birthday, the day she comes of age as a woman. I plan to hold a large party for her, my expense. Please mother, I can think of no one better suited to cook than you."

Ginevra let loose a most unladylike squeal of delight, throwing herself at Charles. Molly was similarly excited, while she had wanted to throw a party for Ginny as well, she knew that it was beyond her means to do so.

"Oh, Charles! How wonderful, I can think of no better way to celebrate your sister's birthday. What a loving brother you are!" and with that, she exited the room in a flurry of muttering, already planning what was to be the finest party the Weasley family had seen in decades.

"Just wait, Gin. The best is yet to come!"

. ... .

Though try as she might, Ginevra could not force the meaning behind those words out of her eldest brother. Every time she attempted to, she was silenced with a "You seek to ruin my surprise!" or "Keep asking, and you'll never know." These threats from Charles didn't come often, and so Ginevra heeded them. With her curiosity burning her alive inside, the next week passed slowly. She was fitted for a gown made of soft, reasonably priced material. It was gold in color, highlighting the copper colors in her flaming hair, and bringing out the natural caramel color of her eyes.

The night of her party, she stood in front of the only full-length mirror in the house, surprised to say that the reflection looking back at her was not someone she recognized. How had she not noticed how much she had grown in the last few months? Her mental image of herself still consisted of a young girl with firey hair and who had skinny legs with knobbly knees.

But before her was a woman of beauty. Her skin was soft and pale, glowing slightly in the candlelight of her room. Her cheekbones were high, and her eyebrows arched gracefully over her eyes, which were lined with makeup Charlie had bought her for this special occasion. A small, button nose gave way to lips that were full and pale pink. She declined to put any of her lipstain on them. She wore her hair up in a braided bun, which her mother had arranged, letting a few ringlets of hair fall down around her shoulders.

Almost unbelieving of the girl in the mirror, Ginevra turned away from her reflection. She took a deep breath, wincing at the effort of it. Her bodice was tied unnaturally tight, at her mother's insistence. Steeling herself for the night ahead, she exited her room and prepared to make her grand entrance.

The rest of the night passed pleasantly for Ginevra. Many of the kids from town appeared, ones that Ginevra hadn't talked to in ages. Ginevra spent the night dancing, gossiping, and observing the people around her in a way that would make any other sixteen year old girl proud.

The end of the night was approaching, and Ginevra found herself dreading tomorrow. Tonight had seemed like a faerietale; tomorrow was a painful truth. Before she had too long to wallow in her sudden depression, Charles' voice boomed out, calling for everyone's attention.

"I wish to propose a toast, in honor of my dear sister's birthday!"

There was a polite round of applause, and everyone rose their goblets to her.

"And I wish to make an announcement!" Charles continued. He paused, for dramatic effect or to make sure he had everyone's attention, Ginevra was not sure. She waited for what seemed like forever for him to continue, "I have been so fortunate as to receive the favor of our most gracious King. In recognition of my service abroad, he has awarded me with a suite of rooms in the palace, and has given me permission to bring my sister Ginevra to court when the Season starts in the autumn. Ginevra, you shall have a proper season after all."

. ... .

**Cliffhanger! Stay tuned, and please review!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note:**

**I give you the second chapter of Unexpected Peculiarity! While I'm disappointed by the lack of reader response(is it terrible to say that all my other fics picked up fire quite quickly and was expecting it to be the same case again?), I am pushing through! I have the next chapter written already, and will be posting it in the next few days. Review, please! I do SEE you. One review, with over one hundred people viewing? That's an ugly fraction.**

**That being said, I would like to dedicate this chapter to veronica21, my one lovely reviewer. Thank you, and sorry that none of your questions were answered in this chapter. (;**

**Standard disclaimer, none of this shit is mine but the plot, blah blah blah.**

. ... .

"I can only manage a Season's worth of gowns," Charles added the following morning over breakfast, when it was just family again. "No more than that; you won't be able to return next year if you don't manage to find a spouse this year. But four months ought to be enough."

Ginevra nodded, a smile gracing her features. "Of course, brother. I am very grateful to you, and I can hardly contain my excitement at the thought of living at the palace for four months!"

Charles returned her smile with one of his own. "Helping you helps the family, Ginevra. You've managed to stay within the shadows of this household surprisingly well, but through your letters I saw something that I don't think anyone else has yet," he replied, sounding almost pompous. "And so, I give you this opportunity to do your best. Depending on whose eye you catch, you may be able to match with a suitor of means which can improve our family _fortunes_." The last word was obviously laced with sarcasm, and the meaning was clear: aim high.

On one hand, Ginevra was proud that her brother believed her capable of ensnaring a wealthy suitor. On the other, she found that she was almost put out by the prospect of marrying for money. Shouldn't love be in the equation, somewhere?

She thought too soon.

"You should also secure your own comfort, Ginevra dear. Money is one thing, finding someone you can spend the rest of your life with is something else!" Molly chirped, adding more food to Charles' plate as she leaned over his shoulder.

Ginevra observed her mother as she went back to the stove, bending over to put more wood in the burner as she prepared to start making a second round of food. Frederic, George, and Ronald had yet to come down after a long night of celebrating.

As Ginevra watched her mother make the food, clean the dishes in a washbasin, and begin to clean the kitchen, she was struck with the rather cruel thought that her mother was the poster child of someone who married for love, not money. And where did it get her? Thirty years of marriage, seven childbirths, stretch marks and weary bones. Not to mention seven hungry mouths that needed food, clothes, shelter, and apprenticeships. Having barely two sickles to rub together for the greater part of her adult life had left her graying, wrinkled, and washed out.

Had her mother once been beautiful? Did her mother once feel the same longing for freedom, as Ginevra did? Ginevra didn't know, and she was positive she wouldn't ask.

. … .

From that point, time seemed to move faster than it ever had. Two months was hardly enough time to put together the entire wardrobe that Ginevra will require as a young lady of the court: gowns, shoes, scarves, hose and garters, bejeweled trinkets.

Almost before Ginevra had time to catch her breath, it was the day before her departure. Molly was running around, checking Ginevra's packing, making sure she hadn't forgotten anything.

Ginevra normally found this type of behavior annoying, but today she found her state of nerves in the same condition as her mother's. Ginevra must have run around the Burrow eight times, trying to remember something she was sure she had forgotten. Thankfully, her mother managed to stop and inform her that she had found what Ginevra was looking for. It was already been packed.

"Now, Ginevra dear, just breathe. I understand how you're feeling; overwhelmed, nervous, and probably slightly nauseous. Am I right?" Molly asked, a wise look crossing her features.

Ginevra nodded in affirmation.

"That's normal, dear! I think you will be well suited to court life. Just remember Ginevra, a young woman's virtue is always her most valuable treasure-"

"Mother!" Ginevra interrupted, shocked by her mother's sudden subject matter change.

"No, Ginevra, you will listen. And listen well, my dear. There was a time, long before you, long before _Charles_, even, that I dabbled in court affairs," her mother informed her. "You have this romanticized view of court, stemmed from history books and the illusions of your own creation. Let me tell you this: court is a game of cards, and sometimes you're the one with the hand, other times you are the card being played." The serious tone in Molly's voice gave Ginevra pause, opening her ears to her mother's wisdom. "There are going to be snakes disguised in gentlemen's skin, looking to wrap themselves around you and take what is precious. Do not let that happen, Ginevra. Not only is your virtue your most valuable treasure, but it is also a card to be played. Remember that, and don't fall victim to pretty words with no meaning."

. … .

That night, as Ginevra lay in her bed for what would be the last time for at least four months, she found with little surprise that she could not sleep. Her thoughts were racing, lined with excitement and also a sudden somberness. From what she had read about in history books, court was made up of some of the wealthiest nobles in all of Britain. The Season's debuts, typically made of girls aged sixteen to eighteen, were the highlight of the season. She was excited.

But for some reason, her mother's imagery of snakes wearing gentlemen's skin haunted her as she slipped past the darkness of her eyes, into sleep.

. … .

The morning of Ginevra and Charles' travels was gray and dismal. Though it would have been quicker for Charles to simply Apparate to the palace, Apparation was not an option for Ginevra and all of her luggage.

They rented a carriage to bring them to Court, and it was a long and boring journey. Charles was napping and snoring lightly on the seat opposite of her, and Ginevra found herself watching the landscape as they carried on.

The two of them had left in the early morning when the sun had been high in the east, and the first sighting of the castle was made by Ginevra in the late afternoon, when the sun was but a red dot lowering past the horizon.

"Charles! Wake up! We're almost to the palace," Ginevra exclaimed, shaking him awake.

By twilight, the two of them had been accepted in the palace walls. Stepping down from the carriage first, Charles then extended his hand to her. With as much grace as she could muster after hours of immobility, Ginevra stepped down and fixed her attire.

Someone cleared their throat. Ginevra looked up to see a small mulatto woman standing before her, looking expectant.

Charles looked at the girl curiously. "May we help you?" he asked, politely.

"Lord and Lady Weasley? His Highness ordered me to await your arrival, said I'd know when it was you two because you'd have the only flaming hair in all of court," she said, with a curtsy. "My name is Thereze, and I will be Lady Weasley's maid for the duration of her Season."

Ginevra tried not to let the shock show on her face. Maid? She had a maid? She felt like her life was a dream, and obviously Charles was surprised as well.

"Oh...well, please extend our sincere thanks to His Majesty, if you happen to see him before me, Miss Thereze. Until then, I trust you will get my little sister settled in? I'm afraid I must meet up with some colleagues."

The mulatto maid nodded, "Yes, of course my Lord. Your Lady Weasley will be well taken care of, rest assure." And with that, she turned to a group of men that had been standing over by the entrance. In a language that Ginevra didn't recognize, she barked what sounded like an order, and gestured to Ginevra's luggage.

As Charles went off to do his handle his own affairs, Ginevra was taught her first lesson of palace life. After showing Ginevra to her rooms, as well as unpacking her things as the luggage was brought up by the men, Thereze decided that Ginevra was in need for a long bath.

Dragging the unwilling redhead into the bathroom, Thereze began to undress her quickly. Mortified, Ginevra tried to push the darker girl's hands away, only to have them slapped.

"It's quicker this way, trust me," was the only explanation given to Ginevra. Before she could protest further, the aggressive dark woman pulled her skirts over her head.

The woman then started going to take Ginevra's under clothes off when Ginevra had enough. "_Excuse me_," she snapped, pushing the woman away from her with a little more force than necessary. "I have put my own clothes on and have taken them off by myself since I was a babe no taller than my mother's knee! I don't know what kind of servants they have around here, but where I'm from, servants follow the orders of their masters!" her caramel eyes were set in a glare.

Thereze looked obviously taken aback. When she had heard of this Weasley girl, she had been told that the Ginevra she'd be waiting on was born in the country, seventh of seven children, and was only noble if you squinted your eyes really hard. The mulatto woman had assumed that this meant dumb, poor, and ill mannered.

However the young girl before her carried herself with a grace that would be respected. Her tone commanded authority and her glare made her wince with displeasure.

"I-I am terribly sorry, Lady Weasley. I meant no-"

"It's Ginevra. Lady Ginevra. I do not wish to use the surname of my father's house," Ginevra interrupted, as she turned away and began shedding her under clothes.

"Yes, Lady Ginevra, of course," Thereze said obediently, as she crossed the room to draw the bath. As the mulatto woman did this, Ginevra watched with amazement as water poured out of the pipes with simply a twist of a handle. She had heard of indoor plumbing, where you didn't have to heat the water before you bathed, but she had never been witness to it. How wonderful.

"If you're ready now, Lady Ginevra, would you like assistance in washing your hair?" Thereze offered, and Ginevra got the feeling she was trying to make up for her rudeness earlier. It was a start.

"That would be most agreeable," she said coolly, as she lowered herself into the large tub full of hot water. A large sigh of contentment passed her lips as she savored the feeling of being immersed in hot, floral smelling water.

After an hour of soaking and scrubbing, Ginevra was keenly aware that the water was significantly dirtier than before.

If Thereze noticed, she didn't say anything about it. When Ginevra stood, Thereze was there to wrap her in a warmed, fluffy towel. Ginevra couldn't remember the last time she had felt so clean; her skin felt raw and new.

Ginevra began the process of drying herself off, yawning widely.

"My Lady, you are welcome to go down to the dining hall and participate in supper. Or, if you are too tired, I can bring you some food and you can retire early."

Ginevra considered both options. The day of traveling had taken a toll on her, and she wasn't exactly hungry, but she was eager to see the palace.

"Please go pick a dress suitable for dinner tonight. I will braid my hair and then would you mind escorting me to the dining hall?" Thereze nodded, exiting the bathing room and leaving Ginevra to her own devices.

With expert fingers, she braided her bangs in a waterfall braid that wrapped around her head all the way to her other ear. Her hair was drying quickly, forming perfect ringlets. She looked at the mirror despairingly. Her hair was a point of frustration; she wished desperately for it to just be straight.

"Don't worry, Lady Ginevra. Curls are very fashionable in court this season. I bet you'll meet dozens of girls who wish they had your problem," Thereze said from the doorway. Ginevra started, and then looked sheepish at being caught during a moment of vanity.

"I suppose we all want what we don't have," Ginevra said lightly. She walked into her rooms, and for the first time appreciated the decor. A four poster bed, with silver and green coloring; furniture made of dark, expensive looking wood. Before her was her closet, lined with the numerous gowns Charles had purchased for her.

Laid out for her was an emerald gown, made of the softest cotton she had ever felt, and her bodice was lined with golden stitching. After putting it on with Thereze's assistance, Ginevra found herself looking in the mirror once again. _Its official, _Ginevra thought wickedly, _I feel like a princess._

"I'd suggest makeup, but you're one of the few I've seen this Season that looks good without it, my Lady," Thereze commented lightly, seeming hesitant to speak. Her hesitation had Ginevra wondering if she was being deceitful. "You look very natural. Your skin is glowing."

Ginny felt a heat rush to her face, and she turned away from Thereze to hide her shame. She wasn't used to such familiarity, but she found she didn't mind the attention.

Thereze misunderstood Ginevra's lack of response. "My deepest apologies, Lady Ginevra. Sometimes my mouth gets talking before my mind can catch up."

Ginevra remained silent for a few moments, waiting until she knew her blush had disappeared. The last thing she needed her first impression to the palace people to be is that her face matched the color of her hair.

"Nonsense, Thereze. You must forgive me, I've lived with only brothers all of my life. Talking with another girl about hair, makeup, skin...it is not something that I'm used to, if you can understand," she turned around. "Now, let us go to this dinner I've heard so much about."

"Of course, my Lady. Just follow me."

. ... .


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note:**

**Just keep swimming, just keep swimming, just keep swimming, swimming, swimming, what do we do? We swim!**

**Thank you to the reviewers of last chapter! You guys rock. To clear up some questions, I'm not exactly sure when this story takes place. It's inspired by the Victorian Era, so I suppose we'll go with that. It doesn't really pertain to the story, and I learned long ago not to stress about the small things!**

**Standard disclaimer, unless I manage my goal of developing my secret magical abilities and somehow take over the world, Harry Potter doesn't belong to me. It belongs to J.K. Rowling and while she's swimming in her room of money, I am here, writing this. So there.**

. ... .

If one asked Ginny to describe the palace, she would have to admit that words failed her. First of all, it was huge. Hundreds of the Burrows could have fit inside quite easily, and the architecture was exquisite; graceful arches marked the doorways, etched columns supported the ceiling, and stained glass adorned the windows.

The entrance to the dining hall was tall and grand. Inside, she looked up to find that the ceiling was enchanted to look like the night sky. The sight left Ginevra breathless; even the real night sky had never looked so beautiful.

Thereze coughed quietly, shaking Ginevra out of her reverie. It was only then she noticed her mouth had been open, and she had been gaping at the ceiling like an unintelligent goldfish. _Smooth, Ginevra. Smooth._

Ginevra cleared her throat, "Thank you, Thereze. I appreciate the navigation. You are excused."

"Good luck, my Lady," Thereze said with a grin, before curtsying and turning away.

Ginevra squared her shoulders, and walked into the dining hall as dignified as she could.

. ... .

As she walked among a sea of strangers, Ginevra looked everywhere for the slightly balding, but still red, head of her brother. Never before had she been somewhere with so many people all talking at once.

"...did you hear of Lord Bullstrode's youngest? Foolish girl, she turned down a most advantageous proposal last year," said a scandalous sounding woman, "And it was her third season at court!"

"What does she think to do now?" replied another woman, older. "She can't possibly afford a proposal to anyone, and her parents simply cannot afford to set her up in her own household!"

_Such was the way of things at court_, Ginevra assumed. One either courts, or is courted. Young girls, starting from sixteen up until generally their eighteenth year, are courted. Generally the one doing the courting was a well-established adult.

Among members of the nobility, the sons were most often set up to have his own household, and sought to bring a younger wife into it. The daughters are typically courted by others. There were always exceptions though. Extremely wealthy parents might be able to provide all their children with sufficient inheritance to set up households, while poverty-stricken families (like Ginevra's) could not even do that for their eldest.

"I heard that she turned down that proposal because she had hopes for Lord Parkinson offering for her!"

"Foolish indeed! Lord Parkinson could do better than that troll. If you ask me, I say the only reason he talked to her in the first place was because he had lost a bet!

"I heard that Lord Parkinson's sister is having a love affair with Lord Zambini..."

"Lord Zambini? But, he is married! And advisor to the king!"

Ginevra walked away this conversation, and the women's voices faded in the growl of everyone else.

"...I heard Their Majesties have lost another unborn child," Ginevra heard another thread of gossip start.

"How dreadful!"

It was dreadful. The King and Queen Consort had yet to produce an heir, seven years into the king's reign.

"I heard that the King has commanded young Lord Scorpius to be brought to court..."

"Ginevra!"

Ginevra whirled around to the sound of her name, pleased to see it was her brother beckoning her to him.

"Charles, I was looking for you! The palace is so lovely!"

Charles smiled, "And you look lovely in it! I have no doubt you will ring yourself in a good husband here. Now, you sit over at the table on the other end of the hall, with the other ladies-in-waiting."

"You mean I can't sit with you, brother?" Ginevra asked, almost pitifully. Sitting at a table of girls filled Ginevra's heart with dread. They were all going to hate her, she was sure of it.

"I'm afraid not, sister dearest. Now go, and don't forget, eyes are upon you. Do not do anything...rash," Charles said firmly, knowing Ginevra's love of mischief.

. ... .

And so Ginevra found herself, sitting with dozens of other girls who were all here for the same reason she was. Ginevra lacked knowledge of their names, but the food was delicious. Even Molly Weasley's hardly compared.

Conversation fitted around her, but Ginevra stayed silent throughout the meal. She was not sure how to talk to other girls; a disadvantage brought by living with all brothers. By quickly looking up and down the table, Ginevra did happen to notice that Thereze had not been lying; she really was the only girl debuting with red hair. _Wonderful._

Between courses, Ginevra found herself looking around. At the high table sat King Draco and his consort, Astoria, from the formidable Greengrass family. At the King's other side sat Lord Zambini, foremost advisor of the court.

Ginevra noticed, however, that the gazes of both the King and Queen Consort went often to a lower table. Ginevra's eyes followed the same line of vision and she was shocked to see a small boy whose resemblance to the King was unmistakable.

Eyes flashing back up to the high table, Ginevra looked just in time to watch the King send a dish down to the little boy's table, and see the Queen Consort's lips tighten just a little.

. ... .

By the end of the meal, Ginevra felt so stuffed that she wondered if the court would find it scandalizing to lie down on the table in preference to walking. Probably. With effort, she raised herself from the table and began the treacherous journey of returning to her room.

Trying to remember the different turns and corridors Thereze had taken her down before, only backwards, was more difficult than Ginevra had anticipated. Much more difficult. After the long day of travel, combined with an over stimulating dinner, Ginevra found herself pacing the different corridors, dead on her feet. It was here, lost and in unfamiliar territory, that Ginevra first crossed paths with the King.

To be literal, she collided her path into the King's. While rounding a blind corner, she found herself crashing into what seemed to be a very inconveniently placed wall. Only when she heard a small, "Oof!" as she fell backwards did she realize she had ran into another _person._

"My Lady! My apologies, I did not see you coming!" said the voice, obviously male, from above her.

Ginevra winced, rubbing her back. "Oh, it's okay really. My fault, I've been bumbling around all over this palace, totally and completely-" she looked up to see the face of the man she had crashed into only to find that her mouth remained open, while her words caught in her throat.

The king! She had run into the king! How fabulously cliché was that? Of all people that she might have the pleasure of bumping into and making herself look like an idiot in front of, it had to be the bloody king!

"Lost?" the king finished for her easily, with a small smirk of amusement from the look of total shock on Ginevra's face.

"Oh, your Majesty!" Ginevra quickly made to gather her skirts to stand, when she was greeted by the sight of His Majesty's hand, a few inches from her face. Ginevra lifted her head to look at it, and then her eyes traveled to his face. Her caramel eyes met his silver, and she felt a cold shiver run down her spine.

Quickly gathering her wits, Ginevra accepted the King's hand bringing her to her feet. As soon as her feet were under her, she curtsied low. "Your Majesty, please forgive my clumsiness! I am terribly lost and ironically wasn't looking where I was going-"

The king silenced her with a simple gesture of his hand. Ginevra dared to look up through her lashes at him, and noted that he was still smirking and was looking at her in, if she didn't know any better, a very appraising matter.

"You must be Charles' sister, are you not?" he asked, completely ignoring her apology.

"Yes, your Majesty," she said, unsure what to make of the situation she found herself in, and unsure of what to say without making herself look even more foolish.

"Well, I would not be much of a gentleman if I did not offer my assistance to a beautiful woman that was lost," he said, his voice smooth and fluid. "Especially when she is completely turned around from where she hopes to be," He held an arm out to her.

_Is this really happening? _Ginevra thought nervously, as she placed a hesitant hand on the king's forearm. "Thank you, your Majesty. You're too kind, to go out of your way for a silly girl such as myself," the words came out quietly, her embarrassment getting the better of her. Just her luck, her face was probably just as red as the roots of her hair.

"Nonsense, Lady Weasley. Bumping into you happens to have been a highlight of my day."

"Please your Majesty, call me Ginevra. And if that is the case, what a rotten day you must have had," Ginevra replied, perhaps a little too animatedly in her desire for there to not be silence.

The king cast a sideways look at the young girl, a little surprised at her gall. However, it was refreshing, in a rough sort of way. Many girls he saw pass in and out of his court were pretty dolls with heads filled with air.

"One wouldn't be incorrect in assuming such things, Lady Ginevra."

"I couldn't even imagine what kind of troubles float around in a monarch's head," Ginevra continued. Her mouth seemed to have a mind of its own. "Watching my mother raise seven children was impressive, but ruling a whole country? It must get very lonely."

The king was silent for a long while after she spoke. Dread settled itself in Ginevra's stomach; she must have offended him somehow. _Stupid! He is the only reason you're here in the first place! Can't you ever learn when to shut up? _Ginevra mentally berated herself, as her and the king approached her room.

"It does get lonely at times, yes. Being a king is to be surrounded by those who either hate, envy, or covet your power," the king spoke finally, as they arrived at the door to her rooms. Ginevra waited there, looking into the face of the king as he stared steadily at her own. "Would you like to know a secret, Lady Ginevra?" he asked her, his voice quieter than before.

Caught in the power of his liquid silver gaze, Ginevra could do nothing but nod solemnly. Her heart, for some reason, started to beat wildly in her chest. This was only made worse when the King leaned in close to her face. For a moment, Ginevra thought he would kiss her. _Foolish_.

"Sometimes, I lay in my bed at night, and wonder what life would have been born someone else. And most nights, I find myself wishing for a life that will never exist," he whispered, lips lightly grazing her ear and his breath hot on her sensitive skin.

Ginevra was sure beyond a doubt that her face was flushed now, if it hadn't been before. The king pulled away from her, a small smile on his lips.

"Of course, should I hear that secret of mine tomorrow when court assembles, I'll know exactly who leaked the scandalous information," he said, his voice light and mocking.

Gathering herself, Ginevra managed a response. "Of course not, your Majesty! I would never think to betray a secret, let alone a secret of a king," she flashed him a charming smile. "Thank you so much for escorting me to my rooms, your Majesty. I fear I would have wandered the castle all night if not for you."

"It was my pleasure, Lady Ginevra. I look forward to seeing you at Court."

"Goodnight, your Majesty," Ginevra said, as she opened the door to her rooms.

"Goodnight to you, my Lady."

And with that, she stepped into her rooms and closed the door behind her. Letting a happy sigh escape her lips, she leant back against her door and marveled at the night she had had.

The king had been so handsome! Porcelain skin, graceful features, and white-blonde hair that was slightly too long for normal social standards. But then, when you were the king, what did social standards really mean to you anyway? And his eyes! Even when Ginevra closed her own, she could still see them staring through her.

Shaking herself and trying to rid herself of childish thoughts, she quickly shed her clothes and crawled into bed (which was much more comfortable than her own). She fell asleep almost the same time her head hit the pillow.

. ... .


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's Note: Here is the fourth chapter of Unexpected Peculiarity, and I hope you guys enjoy it! Let me know what you think by reviewing. (:**

**My reviewers are what keep me going, and thank you to everyone who has taken a moment to drop a few sentences. You're all awesome!**

**Beware, after this chapter, the story takes on a darker, more mature theme.**

**Standard disclaimer, not mine, never will be, blah blah blah.**

**. ... .**

**_"We swallow greedily at any lie that flatter us, _**

**_but we sip only little by little at the truth which we find bitter."_  
**

. ... .

Ginevra awoke the next morning to sunlight streaming into her windows. Letting out a sigh of contentment, she stretched and lazily got out of bed.

Fascinated by the running water, she decided to take another hot bath. After meticulously cleaning every spot she might've missed the night before, Ginevra stepped out of the water and wrapped her robe around herself. She was quite sure that she could become used to bathing every day.

When she walked back into her room Thereze was there, already remaking her sheets. When Ginevra approached, Thereze curtsied.

"Good morning, Lady Ginevra. I am surprised to see you awake, I didn't take you as much of an early riser."

"Get used to being surprised," Ginevra replied grimly, sitting on her bed. She watched as Thereze made herself busy, cleaning various things around the room.

"Thereze?" Ginevra asked suddenly.

Thereze stopped in her cleaning tasks to turn to look at Ginevra, who she had almost forgotten was there. "Yes, m'Lady?"

"Would you mind brushing my hair for me?"

Thereze looked surprised by the request, but definitely wouldn't refuse. And so she settled behind Ginevra, beginning her siege on the red head's curls.

Ginevra was quiet for a moment, looking at the wall in front of her. Thereze was gentle with the brush, Ginevra gratefully noted.

Earlier when she had been bathing, questions had flown into her mind that she needed answering. After her observations at dinner the night before, and her surprise encounter with the king shortly after, Ginevra needed details and facts. Over the one meal she had eaten at the palace, she noticed that the servants were almost invisible to their wealthy counterparts. Surely their eyes and ears reached every corner of this castle, as underestimated and thankless as they were.

Which was why Thereze was the perfect channel for Ginevra to get her information.

"Tell me, Thereze, how long have you worked at the palace?" she asked, glad that the other woman couldn't see her face. Ginevra kept her voice questioning and innocent, positive the maid wouldn't figure out Ginevra's under-handed play.

"Oh, quite a long time. I was sent here when I was a little younger than you. My ma raised all five of us by herself, and as I was the oldest I had to be sent here to help my family put food in their bellies."

"Do you regret coming?"

"At first, I did. The old king was a nasty man. He didn't treat us servants well. Ever since King Draco has risen to the throne, though, life hasn't been too bad. He's not got a soft spot for us, but he treats us well enough."

Ginevra grinned as Thereze opened the door to the very subject she had wanted to approach in the first place. "His Majesty seems very...liberal in his ethics. Thereze, please don't say that I've asked, but does his Majesty have a son?"

The brush moving through her hair stilled, but then quickly started again. "What makes you ask that, Lady?"

"Well, I happened to see his Majesty send a dish down to a little boy last night. A little boy that looked remarkably like him. And her Majesty didn't look too pleased," Ginevra explained.

"Perceptive, you are, Lady Ginevra." Thereze said, and Ginevra could imagine the wry smile on her face. "All right, I'll tell you but you mustn't tell a soul that I've told you. It's supposed to be a secret of the Crown, but as all secrets, it's managed to leak itself out somehow..." Thereze trailed off, and Ginevra spun around to look at her.

"Five years ago, a young lady by the name Azure Laroche arrived at court with a talent act. They were hired by the King to perform for Court throughout the Season, but soon the Court knew that the King had begun an affair with the young French girl," Thereze explained.

A gasp of surprise came from Ginevra. "An affair? Kings can have affairs?"

Thereze laughed, almost bitterly. "Kings can have whatever they want, Lady Ginevra. Whether its land, jewels, power, or women, it makes no difference. It's not unheard of for the King to partake in such unions, even today. But this Laroche girl was different. Not long after she arrived, it became clear she was the king's favorite. She was with him at every feast, every tourney. Eventually, she became pregnant."

"What did the Queen Consort have to say about this?" Ginevra asked, bewildered.

"While she certainly was anything but pleased, Queen Astoria hadn't much room to say anything. She and the king's marriage was political in nature; King Draco married her before he was even sixteen. Her family is powerful, and so she knew her role as Queen Consort was secure. His Majesty could do whatever he wanted, so long as she was still the one that he needed to produce an heir.

"And as it turned out, Astoria didn't have to worry about Azure Laroche for too terribly long. During labor she bled to death, leaving only young Scorpius behind as a memory of her. The King sent the child away not long after he was born, to live at a trusted wealthy noble's estate."

"Why would he send his son away? I thought he loved the mother," Ginevra asked.

"Well, he did. I think he sent young Scorpius away out of heartbreak and out of protection. Scorpius is illegitimate, but he is still a son of a king, and that combination does not bode well with nobles concerned about the succession of the throne once King Draco is gone."

Ginevra considered this for a moment, trying to understand the king's actions. "But...if he sent him away before, why has he brought him back?"

Thereze looked at Ginevra for a moment. "You seem too interested in this, my Lady," Thereze said, her tone teasing. "What has sparked your interest so?"

Ginevra did not know if she wanted to tell Thereze the whole story. After all, what she had said last night to the king had been true; she never betrayed secrets. Secrets, she had learned, were valuable treasures.

So she decided half-truths would do just fine.

"Last night, I was lost and the king and I ran into each other." Thereze made a face, as if to say that she did not approve of the vagueness. Ginevra grinned before continuing, "To be perfectly honest, _I _ran into _him_, in the most literal way. I was lost and couldn't find my way back to my rooms. He was gracious enough to escort me to them," Ginevra noted as she talked that Thereze was looking at her differently. Knowing what the maid was assuming, Ginevra covered her cheeks and looked down, as if she were embarrassed. "It was totally innocent and the king was nothing but a gentleman. I can't seem to stop wondering about him though, he seemed so...just as lost as I was, in a way," Ginevra decided that was enough sharing on her part. Give a little, get a little, in Ginevra's opinion. She stared at Thereze expectantly.

_I like this girl, _Thereze decided after Ginevra finished speaking. The redhead had a strange gift with words. The simple fact that she didn't throw herself at the king when he escorted her back to her rooms, like most girls in her position would have, impressed Thereze greatly.

"How charming," she said with a smile, before continuing her story. "Well, in that case I suppose fulfilling your curiosity couldn't hurt.

"The King and Queen have been trying to produce an heir since they were married, at sixteen. It has been ten years, and the Queen has been pregnant officially three times, though there are some rumors it has been more," Thereze's voice had steadily gotten quieter as she spoke, until it was just a whisper. "Every time she loses a baby, hopes of the king ever producing a legitimate heir decrease," she said solemnly.

"So is the King's plan to name Scorpius as his heir?"

"That lies the end of my knowledge, my Lady."

. ... .

With a good chunk of her questions answered, Ginevra set about getting ready. Breakfast was soon, and Ginevra had Thereze lay out some of her lightest dresses. It was unnaturally hot for summer in Britain. She arranged her long locks in a twist up-do, and just as she pinned the last lock in place there was a knock at her door.

She opened it, and found her brother standing there.

"Good to see you up and ready, sister dearest. I have arranged for you a breakfast with a potential suitor," he told her, as he stepped inside.

"Really? Well that was very fast," Ginevra said, surprised.

"You've already made quite an entrance. Why, this morning when I met with my colleagues, the first thing they asked me was how I had such a beautiful sister when I am as ugly as a troll," he said, with a laugh.

"Why, that's a terrible thing for them to say of you!" replied Ginevra, outraged for her brother.

"Now, now, Ginevra. They were all in good humor. It was more a compliment on your behalf then a slight on my own, I assure you."

Slightly appeased, Ginevra allowed her curiosity to win out over her pride. "Well then, who is it, brother? Who shall I be meeting with for breakfast?" she asked.

"His name is Lord Longbottom. Neville Longbottom. He is a marquess, and his family is very wealthy. I trust you will do well to encourage his affections."

And so, about an hour later, Ginevra sat in Charles' rooms, which were much larger and grander than her own, waiting for this Neville Longbottom to show. Charles was to act as her chaperone; a very awkward situation if you asked Ginevra (which no one did).

Ginevra was incredibly nervous; she had never interacted with someone who expressed interest in her for marriage. Of course that was what she was here for, but it had seemed all very different when marriage had just been a concept to deal with later. Was she ready to become a wife and raise a household? And what if she found the man utterly displeasing? Surely her brother would never force her into a marriage she was not happy with...would he?

Just then there was a knock on the door. Ginevra stood, and Charles went to greet him.

"Neville! What a pleasure to see you again," Charles said kindly, allowing the man to enter the door.

As a first impression, Ginevra was not very impressed. Neville Longbottom was tall and lanky, but still had a tinge of baby-roundness. He dressed in clothing that was obviously expensive, but not very flattering. His demeanor was nervous and lackluster as he approached her, and his round face sheened with a layer of sweat. Still, she remembered her manners enough to curtsy before him.

"Lord Longbottom, it's a pleasure to gain your acquaintance," she said quietly, a lack of enthusiasm in her voice.

"Ah, and this is my dear sister Ginevra," Charles introduced.

"Lovely to gain yours as well, Lady Weasley," was the rushed reply from Neville.

And with that, the three of them sat down to break their fast. The ordeal was very quiet at first, with Ginevra not inclined to start conversation and from the looks of it, neither was Neville. That is, until Charles kicked her under the table and made an obvious motion for her to start conversation.

"Umm..." Ginevra faltered, trying to figure out something to say to the man before her that she wasn't interested in in the slightest. "I don't know anything about you, Lord Longbottom. Please, tell me about yourself."

That was all Ginevra needed to say. Neville began to talk about himself at some length. Apparently, he is a Herbologist who made a quite hefty fortune when he discovered the properties of gillyweed, a plant that makes humans able to breathe underwater. ("Well, actually, a woman by the name of Elladora Ketteridge discovered it; I'm just simply credited with the discovery for modern usage.") Through his story, Ginevra filled in the blanks. He had made a substantial fortune for himself in his own right, and was now in a position to marry.

Later in the discussion (the bland, tedious discussion), he made a comment about wishing to have a gracious presence in his home. This may have been a flattering compliment from someone else, but it came awkwardly from him. Ginevra wasn't sure if he was just really lonely and wasn't good at paying compliments, or whether his motives to find a spouse were more practical: he needed a woman to give him children after all, and if her mother's reputation left any mark on Ginevra, that would be it.

An hour later, Neville stood, saying that he must return to his lab to work on further research. Ginevra was all too happy to see him leave, and after Charles' escorted him out of the room, he turned on her.

"You know, Ginevra, it would do you well to at least _pretend _that you find what the man who wants to marry you has to say interesting," he scolded.

Not used to the tone her brother was giving her, Ginevra turned defensive. "It would do _you _well to find me a suitor who has something interesting to say! And, for that matter, one who doesn't sweat profusely!"

"Don't be superficial, Ginevra. One of your station can't afford it," Charles said, quite rudely, as he walked to his desk and sat down.

"Charles, your words wound me. You cannot honestly expect me to get married to a man that I have absolutely no interest in at all," Ginevra said, exasperatedly.

Charles did not turn around in his chair to address her. "I do expect you to keep your options open. You must remember, what helps you helps the family. That is why we are here. If you happen to catch your faerietale prince, so be it, but I wouldn't hold your breath. Now go, I must work."

Obviously dismissed, Ginevra gathered her skirts and left Charles' room in a fury. For her brother to speak to her like that, as if she was merely a pawn in his game! Ginevra Weasley was _no one's _pawn, and she would prove to her brother that.

. ... .

Instead of returning to her rooms, Ginevra decided to go down to the main hall, where the courtiers assembled and socialized during the day. If her all her brother's potential suitors for her turned out to resemble Neville Longbottom, she would definitely have to find one of her own to counter with.

As she entered the hall, she was surprised to see several faces look in her direction. She was someone who was used to moving about without anyone noticing, but that seemed to have changed overnight. She wondered what had drawn the court's attention to her, as she quietly hovered around the edge of the main group of people. Ginevra was never one to dive into a situation; she preferred the more cunning, cautious approach.

She eyes everyone in Court, wishing she knew their names. Caught up in memorizing faces, she failed to notice someone approach her from behind.

"Do you do this often? Just stare at people? Because if you do, let me be the first one to tell you that it is rather creepy."

Ginevra whipped around, finding a man she had never seen standing almost too close behind her.

"I beg your pardon?" Ginevra asked, feeling as though she were a cat with her hackles up.

"Oh, I meant no offense sweet Lady, I was just merely trying to save you from giving the courtiers something to gossip about," the strange man said with what Ginevra assumed he imagined to be a charming smile. He was obviously Irish; Ginevra could hear it in his voice. Definitely not suitor material; her father would murder her if she were to marry an Irishman.

Fighting the urge to roll her eyes, Ginevra turned away from him. "While I thank you for your oh-so gentlemanly concern, I can handle myself perfectly fine, thank you."

The man laughed, and Ginevra had to grudgingly admit it was a pleasant sound.

"I'm sure you can, with that spitfire personality. Does it leak from the color of your hair into your head, I wonder?" he trailed off, grinning mischievously.

At this remark, Ginevra was sure her eyes popped out of her head. "Well, I've never! Is this your attempt at flirting, Lord-"

"Seamus Finnigan, my Lady," he supplied, still grinning like an idiot.

"-Lord Finnigan? Because if it is, let me be the first one to tell you that you're dreadful at it," she said, echoing his words from earlier.

"Well, obviously I'm not too dreadful at it, considering I'm still talking to the gem of the court."

"No, you're not," she said, and with that walked away from him, leaving him standing there and frowning.

With a sigh, she sat herself down at one of the many tables. She thought over Lord Finnigan's words, considering that perhaps he was right. Throughout her childhood, she had always been skilled at fading into the background. She had learned to become a puppet master, tricking her brothers into messy situations as revenge. Of course, sabotage was also a necessary skill when you had Frederick and George as relations.

But perhaps this set of skills wasn't exactly ideal when dealing with the social aspects of Court. Here, she needed to stand out, but how was she to do that while in a sea of strangers?

The sun was shining brightly and Britain that day, and so was lady luck on Ginevra when an unknown, dark complected woman sat in the seat across from her.

Ginevra observed the other woman silently for a moment. She was beautiful, no doubt. Her skin a smooth olive color and her hair was long, black, and curly. She was clothed in a dark purple gown, which contrasted appealingly with her dark brown eyes.

"Greetings, Lady Weasley. I'm Romilda Knott," the woman said, holding her hand out to Ginevra. Ginevra's eyes went down to her hand, and noted a ring on her finger. Romilda Knott was married, what was her aim at talking to Ginevra?

Still, it would be unwise to spurn the first member of her own sex that attempted to talk to her. Ginevra extended her hand as well, and they shook in a most gentlemanly way.

"Please, Lady Knott, please call me Ginevra. What can I do for you?" she asked, her head tilting slightly as she wondered what this woman's intentions were.

"Oh, I don't want anything in particular. I was observing you earlier, and I was quite impressed at the way you swatted the Court Flirt away like the miserable fly he is," the other woman laughed, and Ginevra found it contagious, breaking into a sheepish smile.

"I assume you mean Lord Finnigan?" Ginevra laughed slightly. "I found him abrasive."

"He's that along with some other things," Romilda agreed. "The only thing he has going for him is that his family stood with the king in the conquering of Northern Ireland. Other than that, he's penniless and prospectless, but the king let's him stay at the palace because his father was a high ranking official in the army before his death in battle."

"That is most gracious of the king. I've heard many stories of the king's generosity. In fact, it is part of the reason I am here, along with my brother's," Ginevra told Romilda. "I am thankful we have a king who cares for his subjects."

"Indeed, Draco is sometimes too generous with his loyal subjects. More often than not, it turns them greedy." Romilda laughed at Ginevra, who had choked slightly on her own saliva at Romilda's casual way of talking about the king. Ginevra coughed, trying not to be too loud.

"Oh, aren't you the cutest thing! I suppose, you are new to court, aren't you? I'm married to Duke Theodore, his Majesty's cousin. The two are close, and Draco often visits our estate. There is very little formality between us," she explained.

Learning she had been speaking to a Duchess for the past fifteen or so minutes caught Ginevra off guard.

"Oh, what a surprise. The last thing I thought coming down here was that a Duchess would choose to seek my company," Ginevra said, trying to keep suspiciousness out of her voice.

"Really? Well, you would be surprised at how quickly opinions are formed among the regulars at Court. You girls are the highlight of the Season; impressions are made terribly fast. And you're one of the prettiest girls here for this Season. Not to mention, you don't have that dumbstruck look on your face that most girls do," Romilda informed her.

Ginevra blushed lightly, and laughed nervously. "You have a much higher opinion of me than my brother does, apparently. He set me up for a breakfast with a most undesirable suitor this morning...it was so dreadful the thought of stabbing myself in the eye with a fork was actually appealing," Ginevra said, and the two burst into a round of giggles together.

"Oh, your humor is refreshing! The people around here very rarely know how to make jokes out of uncomfortable situations. Tell me, who did your brother set you up with?"

"Neville Longbottom," Ginevra said balefully.

"Oh, you poor dear! To suffer through lunch with such a man.."

"Like I said, it was dreadful-"

"Ginevra!" Her brother called. Looking over her shoulder, she noticed her brother heading towards her with a displeased look on his face.

As he approached their table, he noticed Ginevra's company with what appeared to be shock.

"Your Grace, how lovely you look this afternoon. Please excuse my sister, I did not give her permission to leave her rooms-"

"Oh nonsense, Charles! I find your sister to be delightful company. In fact, I'd like to extend my offer to sponsor her for the rest of the Season. She would look lovely at my dinner parties," Romilda said, as she stood.

Both Charles and Ginevra looked at the Duchess in shock, and Charles seemed to be at a loss of words.

"Your Grace, you are much too kind. I-well," Charles faltered, but Ginevra knew what the answer would be before it even came out of his mouth. After all, what good could come from refusing a Duchess? "Our family would be honored to have you sponsor Ginevra this Season. With your guardianship, I have no doubt that she will secure a suitor."

"Indeed, you have nothing to worry about in that respect. I will take good care of your sister, not to worry," she looked at Ginevra then. "I assume you don't have any issue with this arrangement, do you Ginevra dear?"

"Of course not, my Grace!" Ginevra said immediately. She trusted this woman's judgment of men much more than her brother. "I am ever so grateful and honored that you would even request!"

"Well, I like you and I'm sure you'll provide an interesting season. Now, go and gather your things. I'll have my servants move you into my rooms before lunch. We have much to do before tonight's banquet."

. ... .

**Longest chapter yet! Stay tuned. (:**


	5. Chapter 5

**Author's Note:**

**Hey there guys! This is the next chapter of Unexpected Peculiarity, and I'm worried. I'm trying very hard to not fall back into the habit I have of abandoning stories, but it's very difficult sometimes. Don't get me wrong, I know exactly what happens in this story. The difficult part is getting it out of my head and into words for you lovely people out there. I'd like to give a shout out to paulaa90, who messaged me directly and asked me to keep writing! **

**That being said, I'm trying to push through. As I post this, I'm about a fourth of the way done with the next chapter. Writing this chapter, I found myself thinking that this chapter could be considered a filler. I personally don't think so, but then again I know what's going to happen later. (; **

**For all you lovely little readers out there waiting for Draco and Ginny to magically fall in love, you still must wait a little bit longer! However I offer you this;_ if I get enough reader feedback_ I'll give you a little sneak peak into Draco's situation. Trust me, you want to know what's going down in the royal family! And it'll just be between us-I won't even tell Ginevra. Haha.**

**Thanks for reading!**

. ... .

"What is this I hear about young Ginevra Weasley moving into our guest corridors, oh lovely wife of mine?" came the voice of her husband as he walked into their sitting room for lunch. Romilda had the servants prepare tea and biscuits, along with small finger sandwiches.

"Hello Theodore dear, do come sit and eat. With all these politics going on, you are starting to look thinner than I am," Romilda replied as she added sugar to her tea. She had a blissful smile on her face, and ignored her husband's question with such fluidity that Theodore found himself sitting and enjoying a lunch with his wife.

Romilda had once been very similar to Ginevra. She too had been the daughter of a younger son of a noble house. Her uncle had been an Earl, and a cousin that was a Countess, but her immediate family had been nowhere near well off enough to ever make any claim to the aristocracy.

They had had enough money to send their eldest daughter to Court, however. This one decision turned out to have been the best choice of their lives. It was at Court, alone in an alien environment, and with her family's wellbeing on her shoulders, that she met Theodore Knott.

Their first meeting was during a masquerade ball. Romilda, who knew no one then, had felt strangely free behind the mask. That night she danced, laughed, and drank wine with some of the highest ranking nobles in the country.

Towards the end of the night, the Grand Hall had been clearing out slowly but surely. The musicians carried on though, not allowed to stop playing until the last guests had left. Romilda took a moment to sit and rest her sore feet at an empty table, bending over to rub them, wincing.

To her surprise, when she straightened up, there was a man sitting across from her. His posture was relaxed, as if he had been sitting there for a while. While he startled Romilda, she made sure to not show it on her face. _Had he been there when I sat down? _she wondered. His skin was pale, and his shoulders were wide and muscular. The only parts of his face she could see were his lips; thin and set in a neutral position, and his eyes. The moment her eyes met his dark, mysterious gaze, she felt a sudden charge in the atmosphere. The way he was looking at her was the way a predator looked at you when trying to figure out whether you were prey or something...more interesting.

They sat in silence for a moment, and the party seemed to dim in Romilda's perspective. She was locked in the gaze of the mysterious stranger.

"Are you enjoying yourself, my lady?" he finally spoke, leaning forward as he did so.

"Quite," Romilda replied, suddenly feeling shy even behind the mask. His eyes seemed to look so deeply into her that she almost felt as though the mask did little to hide her identity from him.

"I've been watching you tonight," was the man's reply, in a voice that sounded like velvet sounded. Romilda swallowed, trying to not drown the heat of the man's presence.

"O-Oh really?" Romilda faltered, "I haven't seen you. Where have you been, lurking in the shadows?"

"The shadows give you a very interesting perspective, my dear lady," he replied easily. He stood, offering her his arm to dance, and Romilda found herself standing as well.

For the rest of the night, she found herself caught in the embrace of this mysterious stranger. They danced and twirled for what seemed like mere minutes, talking and laughing as they did so, until Romilda suddenly realized that they were the last two to remain. The song they were dancing to came to an end and the two parted, no longer dancing but not looking away.

"I must be getting back to my room," Romilda admitted finally, dreading the night ending and her mysterious partner's departure.

"It is late, dear lady. Please, let me walk you," the man offered. It went against everything her mother had ever taught her, but she had seen the shift in his gaze over the course of the night; the predator she sensed behind this man's mask had shifted from curious to interested, and she felt no harm coming from him. With that, she agreed.

Their walk was silent, her arm placed over his as they walked.

"This is my room," she finally said as they reached her door. "Thank you for walking me," she said as she removed her arm from his. She made to open the door quickly, dreading the perfect night being ruined by him getting too presumptuous.

"Wait, my lady-" he grabbed her arm, but gently. His voice wasn't angry at her rushed attempt of goodbye, but soft and imploring. Romilda paused, turning back around to face him silently.

They stared at each other for a moment, and just as Romilda was beginning to feel nervous, he did something that surprised her. He reached up slowly to her face, his fingertips soft as he made to take off her mask. For a moment, Romilda considered stopping him but it passed without action and the man removed her mask with one hand, the other stroking her cheek with a tenderness that made her heart flutter.

"What is your name?" he asked softly.

"Romilda Vane, my lord," was her shaky response, trying to not melt into a puddle on the floor. "Who are you?"

"I suspect you shall know soon enough, my Lady Vane. Thank you, for tonight," he said, his lips turning up into a smile. Then, he did something else that shocked Romilda. He leaned forward and kissed her forehead, his hands momentarily tangling in her hair. Then he stepped back, bowing his head to her. "Goodnight."

And true to his word, Romilda soon found out who her mysterious admirer was. She was sent a token the next morning, delivered from a servant Romilda had never seen around that part of the castle before. When she opened it, she gasped at the beauty of it. It was a necklace of gold, which wrapped intricately around her neck and blossomed with teardrop red gem at the base of her throat. She had never owned something so beautiful and obviously expensive, and she checked the box for a note.

_Love takes off masks that we fear we cannot live without and know we cannot live within-Duke Theodore Knott of York _

After the boldness of his note, the two had begun a whirlwind courtship that resulted in a wedding only two months into the Season. Many of the courtiers gossiped that their quick courtship and marriage was to avoid any illegitimate heirs and scandal, but as the months passed into years without children, the rumors quickly died.

And so Romilda was, married to her one true love and sitting in a position of wealth and power. Her family was secure, and with all her newly made connections all of her siblings went on to make well-matched marriages as well. Not bad from a girl with modest roots.

"Romilda, dear? I've been trying to talk to you for the last five minutes."

She looked at her husband as he raised his tea to his lips, turned up in a smile as he drank. "Oh, I'm sorry my love. Forgive me, I must have been day dreaming. Yes?"

"I _said_," began Theodore, pausing a moment to make sure he really had her attention before he continued, "You can't avoid my question forever. What is it that I hear you invited the youngest _Weasley_to live in our guest rooms this season?"

"Oh, that. It's nothing my dear. She's a lovely young girl! When we were talking today at Court, she told me about the miserable suitors her brother had in mind for her-Neville Longbottom, can you imagine?-and well, I had to take pity on the poor girl! She is much too pretty to be married off to some sweaty pig," Romilda explained.

But Theodore wasn't buying it. He narrowed his eyes suspiciously at his wife, knowing she wasn't giving him all the details of the situation. Noting her husband's disbelieving gaze, Romilda simply grinned and raised her cup of tea to her lips.

"I know you too well, dear wife. I know you're up to something," he told her blandly.

Romilda made a noncommittal sound. Theodore continued to look at her expectantly, and Romilda sighed. "I'm good at matchmaking! The girl is gorgeous, she can do much better than Neville Longbottom," she said defensively.

"Gorgeous girls come to court every season, dear wife," Theodore replied, interested by her odd behavior. What was his little wife up to?

Romilda was hesitant to tell her husband about her true interest behind Ginevra. She was hesitant to even admit it to herself. Informing anyone else of her developing brainchild too soon would definitely cause some difficulties.

With that thought in mind, she arranged her face into a charming smile. "Dear husband, don't worry your pretty little head about my dealings in Court affairs. You don't see me sticking my nose in your political ones," she said smoothly, in a tone that left no more room for discussion.

Theodore quirked an eyebrow at his wife, but let the matter drop quietly. Whatever his wife's master plan was, he was sure that he would find out soon enough_._

. ... .

When Ginevra returned to her soon to be old rooms, Charles was waiting for her. When she entered the rooms, his face was impassive but Ginevra could tell he was not pleased. Memories of his harsh words to her earlier that morning flashed through her mind, and she braced herself for confrontation.

"So happy you've arrived, Ginevra. Do tell me all about your new sponsor," he said, and Ginevra could feel the subtle edge of venom in his voice.

"Well she's quite lovely, Charles. She told me all about how she arranged successful marriages for all of her younger siblings, and now she's sponsoring me," Ginevra shrugged, her tone nonchalant.

She did not want her brother to make things difficult. She seemed to be moving up in rank at court, and she hadn't even technically debuted before the king yet. Tonight was the night the last of the various nobles attending court arrived, and it was the welcoming banquet. The night after would be the night she made her debute in society.

Even so, the welcoming banquet was hardly something she could take nonchalantly. She only hoped that Charles didn't do anything that would hinder her chances now. Ginevra was well aware of his need to be in control, as well as his annoying tenacity.

"And to what do we owe her Grace's sudden generosity?"

"Honestly, I had no idea she intended to sponsor me until she told you. We had simply been talking until you arrived," Ginevra explained. This much was true, but Ginevra couldn't deny that she too had felt like she owed the Duchess Vane's attention to something other than charity. Even so, she knew better than to say so to Charles.

"So you honestly expect me to believe you that you had no tidings in this affair? You did not ask her Grace to take pity on you?"

"Of course not! Charles, I would never! I have more pride than that."

"Forgive me for finding you difficult to believe, Ginevra. The timing is just too perfect, considering I know the dread you had for the suitors I had in mind for you."

His accusation was similar to a slap for Ginevra. A slow burn of emotion flickered into existence inside of her, something she had never before felt towards her favorite and eldest brother; hate. She _hated _him at that moment, and her mother's words of snakes in gentleman's skin came back into her mind's eye. Ever since Charles and Ginevra had arrived in court two days prior, her brother had become someone else. Someone with harder eyes, meaner words, and an air of superiority that Ginevra wasn't used to from him.

She gathered her thoughts and silenced them, aiming her focus solely at the matter at hand. She fixed Charles with a glare, "I don't know who stands before me, Charles. Gone is the older brother who I could sit and find intellectual even ground with, gone is the older brother who believed in my choices and had faith in my ability to make them," her words came out as she thought them, and the tone in which she spoke them added an extra dose of injury. "What has got you so angry, Charles? Most in our situation, destitute and unknown, would be jumping with joy that I received such attention and favor from Her Grace. You, however, seem angry and suspicious of me! So, that being said, what are you angry about?" she asked again, seeing the effect her words were having on him. He suddenly looked uncomfortable, having not been on the other side of Ginevra's temper often in the past. "Is it because you think I asked for this favor, or because you will no longer being the one in charge of me?"

"Ginny! That is not it at all!" he said, as though scandalized. Ginevra rolled her eyes at his use of her nickname at a time like this.

"Whatever you say, Charles. Now, Her Grace is expecting me in my new corridors in less than an hour. I've summoned Thereze and she should be here any minute to help me get my things."

"Ginevra, we are not done with this discussion-"

"I think we are, brother. What is to be done? You have already accepted Her Grace's hospitality before the Court; it would be an utmost insult to suddenly refuse it. My reputation would be ruined in an instant. I doubt even your dear friend Lord _Longbottom _would even want to marry me if that were to happen," she said pointedly, before hearing a knock on the door.

She turned to answer it, but not before seeing a vein pop out in Charles' forehead. With a smirk on her face, she opened the door to an excited looking Thereze.

"Is what they told me true, Lady Ginevra? You're moving into Lady Knott's rooms for the Season?" the look on her face was awestruck, as though Ginevra had won some accomplishment.

"So curious! Well yes, I am moving there and I need to be on my way," She moved her head slightly in the direction of her brother, just enough that Thereze could see and he couldn't. The message was loud and clear and the two proceeded to Ginevra's room.

After the door was closed, Ginevra motioned to her closet. "Pack, I'll explain on the way," she said as she began to pull clothes out of the closet. Thereze quickly stopped her and directed her to sit on the bed while she packed. Thereze was fast alone and more efficient at this type of task.

"Well," Ginevra started as she sat down, not minding at all, "this morning Charles had me go on a date with this _awful _man Longbottom, and afterword yelled at me for not being nice enough! Honestly! I'd like to see him be as kind and gracious as I was to that drone of a sweaty pig!" Ginevra stopped for a moment, taking a breath. Thereze paused in her packing, looking at her and laughing.

"Feel better?"

"Much, thank you. But anyways, afterword he sent me to my rooms. At which time I found the Great Hall to be more pleasing, so...I went there instead. I don't really like being told what to do," she allowed a mischievous grin to grace her features before continuing, "Actually, Her Grace approached me! She said I impressed her with how I dealt with the skirt chasing Finnigan, and I started talking about my dreadful date. She said she liked my humor, or something.

"When my brother came up to us, I thought that he was going to ruin everything! But Her Grace didn't even let him get a word in before she made her offer. And he accepted, in front of all of the court to see! Se completely blind sighted him. It was _brilliant._"

Thereze looked up from her folding, amazed, "That's unbelievable. I can't even believe your luck! Duchess Vane is one of the most influential members of Court. She has friends in high places, and there are plenty of eligible bachelors this year," she paused in her folding to count on her fingers, "Lord Carrow, Lord Davis, Lord Diggory...oh! And I can't forget to mention the most eligible of them all, Lord Potter. He is the Duke of Cambridge, and next in line of the throne in the event His Majesty fails to produce an heir," she paused, "And those are only the most handsome."

Thereze's words sunk into Ginevra, who suddenly imagined herself around all these important, handsome men. The thought was enough to make her feel a little faint.

Not much was said after that, as Ginevra really did not want to be late the first day of her sponsorship. After everything was packed and ready to go, Thereze set about showing her where Lady Knott's rooms were. Ginevra committed the route to memory; she did not want to get lost again.

As they walked, Ginevra found herself thinking about the King. He had been such pleasant company, but there had been something different about him. Something like a great sadness, all the way down to the bottom of his soul. After learning all she had about him, Ginevra was hardly surprised.

Romilda had told her that she was the King's cousin, by marriage. She seemed to know him very well, and Ginevra wondered if he would be in attendance at any of her famed dinner parties. She got a strange feeling in her stomach when she thought of seeing him again.

"My Lady, here they are," Thereze said suddenly, as they approached a large, ornate door. Thereze gave Ginevra a moment to pat her hair and fix her dress before knocking.

No sooner did Thereze knock once did the door open to a very prompt and strict looking servant, his dark hair combed back and a small goatee carefully structured on his pointed chin.

"Lady Ginevra, I assume? Her Grace is waiting for you," and with that he grabbed Ginevra's arm, leading her into the room and shutting the door in Thereze's face with a firm hand. "You are late. This is your first day and such things happen, but do let me inform you that Her Grace is very peculiar about time and promptness. Do not make tardiness a habit," and with that he continued leading her through the rooms.

They were large, taking up a good twelve rooms of the palace. The suite centered around a circular room that looked like it was for guests, and the four different corridors branched out from all sides.

The coloring was rich; deep reds, oranges and purples laced with gold trimming. The color scheme reminded Ginevra of a sunset, but she was not given much time to admire Her Grace's sense of decorating. The strict looking man lead her down the north corridor, before pausing at another large, ornately carved door. He knocked, and was greeted by a smaller, younger servant girl.

"Lady Ginevra has arrived," the man informed her. The young girl observed Ginevra quickly, and opened the door wider.

Ginevra was greeted to the sight of what she assumed to be Lady Knott's personal chambers. The room was lavishly decorated and filled with art that Ginevra had never seen before. As her eyes swept the room, she noticed Her Grace sitting at her vanity table, however she was turned around and looking at Ginevra.

Ginevra stepped into the rooms and curtsied. "Your Grace, your rooms are lovely! Thank you so much for opening your doors to me, I'm honored," Ginevra said, the excitement that sat in her belly leaking out into her voice.

Romilda smiled and crossed the room to greet her, "Oh, Ginevra dear, I'm so happy to have you! I have a feeling we're going to make a splash on the Court scene this Season. I know it," Romilda flashed Ginevra a mischievous smirk and lead Ginevra towards her Vanity where she previously had sat.

"We have much to do before tonight's Welcoming Banquet. You shall be the most gorgeous debutante there," she said as Ginevra sat. Romilda ran her hands through Ginevra's long locks, as if wondering how to arrange it. "Tonight you will wear your hair down, and flowing. What was that braid you did the other night? Let us start there,"

And with that, they began the long task of arranging her hair. After everything was set, her hair consisted of her waterfall braid, and Her Grace wrapped the remainder of her hair in curlers. The process took quite longer that Ginevra had anticipated; she had not known how much hair she had until Romilda had taken piece by piece to wrap up.

Next they were to decide her outfit, and Ginevra pointed out she had packed her dresses to have them brought to Romilda's rooms.

"Oh, Ginevra, dear..." Romilda started, sounding almost amused. "Not to say your dresses aren't lovely for every day wear, but I doubt you own a gown that would make the statement I want you to make tonight."

The next hour consisted of Ginevra trying on at least ten different gowns, all of which Romilda rejected almost immediately. It wasn't until the eleventh or twelfth gown that her Grace's eyes went wide and a smile of accomplishment graced her features.

"Perfect."

. ... .

The day melted away faster than Ginevra could believe. After the dress was picked, Ginevra had spent the next few hours plucked, scraped and prodded at. Her eyebrows were painstakingly arched and her nails manicured and shaped.

It was during this time, when Ginevra was forced to behave and allow servants to twist her ever-which-way, that she finally allowed herself to wonder what she had been trying not to think about all day. The stroke of luck in gaining such an influential member of court was phenomenal.

_Too phenomenal,_ she thought, allowing her realist nature to finally resurface. _I feel like I've woken up in another world. _

And no matter how happy Ginevra was to be in this new world, she couldn't help but wonder exactly what made Her Grace take such keen interest in her so quickly. Thinking back to her mother's parting advice, Ginevra was sure that she was a card to be played in Romilda's hand. But much as she disliked the idea of anyone using her for their own means, the connections that she could make through Romilda were much more desirable than the ones she could make with her brother. With that in mind and future at stake, she was in a place of contentment.

Just as Ginevra thought the torture was over, Romilda entered the room, bringing a piece of clothing Ginevra wasn't familiar with. Noticing Ginevra's strange look, Romilda explained.

"It's a corset, dear. You wear them to give you a more hourglass shape."

"Hourglass?"

"Let me show you," she then proceeded to strip down Ginevra and began the process of tying Ginevra in. There was a very rigid centerpiece, and padding along the side that arched inwards. The back laced up and constricted her lungs painfully.

"I'm not tying this very tight, since you're not accustomed to wearing a corset. We'll go a little tighter every day."

"Tighter? I feel like I can't breathe!" Ginevra said, blurring out her thought before she had a chance to think about them.

Romilda took her outburst with grace, however. She merely laughed. "You'll get used to it, Ginevra. My mother always said that beauty walks hand in hand with pain."

After she was properly restrained and dressed, Romilda brought her over to a mirror.

Again Ginevra felt as though she was looking at someone she didn't know. Her red locks fell around her shoulders in perfectly shaped curls. Her dress was a deep, royal blue that contrasted wonderfully with her pale skin and caramel eyes. The decline was lower than what Ginevra was used to, but not too low for etiquette, and the corset gave the impression that her bust was much larger than it was in real life. Her skirts were gathered around her, and many underskirts gave it a spoofed look. Romilda was right; _none _of Ginevra's dresses could have made the statement this one did. To complete the look, Romilda blended two different shadows on her eyes, blue and silver, creating a smokey effect. Black liquid lined her eyes and Romilda coated her lashes with a dark powder to make them longer and fuller.

"I can't believe that's me," Ginevra said quietly, eyes wide with disbelief.

"There's still just one thing missing..." Romilda trailed off, before disappearing into her closet. When she emerged, she had in her hand a delicate golden chain, lined with the darkest blue stones Ginevra had ever seen. As Romilda attached it around her neck, the only thing she could think of was how it probably was worth more than her father made in a year.

"Perfect. You're stunning, Ginevra. Your reflection doesn't lie," Romilda said soothingly.

Ginevra looked at her, and then back at the mirror. Disbelief was still present, but for the first time Ginevra actually started to relate to the girl in the mirror. All her life she had been Ginevra Weasley, youngest and only girl of the large Weasley clan, virtually unknown and largely forgotten. She had never expected to come to court and find herself in this kind of position.

Now, however, she was here and she was facing her own reflection. Favorite of one of the most influential members of court, and looking breath taking. Right now everything was in her favor. All she had to do was go to the banquet, eat some of her food-not too much-and be charming. She could do that.

At least she hoped so.

. ... .

**Author's Note:**

**Thank you for reading! Don't forget to let me know what you think. (: **


	6. Chapter 6

**Author's Note:**

**For all you lovely readers who have been so very patient with me, I hope you love this chapter as much as I loved writing it! In this chapter, we get to see Ginevra and the King feel the first sparks of what is to be a _very _tumultuous relationship. There is much left to happen before our two lovebirds are able to be together, however. For all those readers looking forward to marriage and heir-making, you might have to wait until the sequel! (Wait...did I just say sequel?)**

**As always, enjoy and please review!**

. ... .

"Your Grace, I feel as though we are late..." Ginevra said nervously. She had started to pace shortly after Romilda had finished making her up. Romilda, however, did not seem in a hurry as she put on her own final touches.

Romilda put a dash of power on her nose, tilting her head to inspect at a better angle when she finished. After what seemed like forever for Ginevra, Romilda looked her way with a mischievous grin.

"You must calm yourself Ginevra. We do well to be at least a little late, don't you see? That way everyone will be able to see your entrance." Romilda looked at her, and for a moment Ginevra saw a slight change in her eyes. She saw a flash of something she couldn't help but compare to the way a cat looks down at a mouse he's managed to catch when he's deciding whether it's a toy or lunch.

Before Ginevra could say anything, Romilda continued. "You're a gem, Ginevra. And gems do best when they are looked and marveled at," she said, in what appeared to be a complimentary tone. But to Ginevra the message between the lines of Romilda's words was clear: _this is a test._

"Tonight, you'll be dining with myself, my younger sister Selena and her husband, Lord Marcus Belby. Belby's father was the creator of wolfsbane, and he's inherited a large fortune. There will be several others in attendance with us. Lord Diggory is a close friend of his, and I also heard that Lord Slughorn and his wife, some young thing whose name escapes me, will be joining our table," Romilda informed her. "There will be some others, some will come and go. The welcoming banquet is not as formal as other nights; everyone is greeting, gossiping, and dancing and by the end of the night, if you're still sitting with me at the same table, you're doing something wrong."

. ... .

Ginevra walked demurely behind Romilda and Theodore on the way to the Great Hall. Their rooms were on the sixth floor, and every time they descended a floor, Ginevra could feel eyes on her and hear whispers of her name.

Never before had she realized how much people could notice you without even saying a word. She decided that she'd use this newfound effect on people to her advantage tonight. If this castle had suddenly transformed her from a caterpillar to a butterfly, she wasn't going to mess it up by putting her opinions in where they weren't needed.

As they finally entered the Great Hall, Ginevra was once again amazed by the magic in the room. The ceiling was the night sky, opening up to reveal hundreds of stars. Floating orbs provided the lighting for the entire Hall, and Ginevra's eyes lowered to the guests. The room had been transformed as well; many long tables went vertically across the room in neat rows. Each table had decorative centerpieces, and were lined with lavish tablecloths. The orbs of floating lights tended to stay overhead of the tables, and Ginevra eyed them closely as she approached. It was when they finally got closer, and small, tinkering laughter reached her ears, that she realized what they were. Small, glowing fairies were what was supplying the lighting to the room. A small smile crossed Ginevra's face.

The room was filled with people, and Ginevra was amazed at the amount. The fact the castle held this many people was astounding, not to mention all the servants. At the front of the room was one long table that stretched almost the length of the hall. In the middle of the length, there were two ornate chairs, one for each the king and queen consort. The king and queen sat, both looking fine in their royal colors. Ginevra allowed herself to look at the queen closely for the first time. With something akin to disappointment, Ginevra had to admit she was stunning. Astoria had the timeless, frozen beauty that Ginevra lacked; long blonde hair, porcelain skin, and light blue eyes that reminded Ginevra of the surface of a lake in the winter.

To the right of the king sat Lord Zambini, and other dark haired men that Ginevra didn't know the names of. One of them, sitting next to Zambini and speaking with the king, had bright green eyes and a smile that Ginevra thought were enchanting. Her eyes then slid to the king, whose pale complexion and fair features once again caught Ginevra off guard. His features were so angular, eyes so liquid and piercing, that Ginevra caught herself wondering if he was completely human.

"Your aim is high, Ginevra. I'll give you that," Romilda said quietly as they took their seats. Ginevra felt her face flush, and she was glad for all the powder Romilda had applied beforehand. "Why not level yourself and take a moment to see what's right before your eyes, though? Lord Diggory certainly seems enchanted by your presence," She hinted, her eyes darting ever-so-slightly to their left.

Ginevra's eyes followed, and made contact with a man's sitting across from her, slightly to her left. This had to be Lord Diggory, who Ginevra noted was also exceptionally handsome. Dark gray eyes, chiseled features and a smooth straight nose was adorned by dark brown hair and a certain air of kindness.

_Why must everyone here be so beautiful? _Ginevra wondered, as she quickly looked away from the young man. His gaze had been what Ginevra would describe as surprised and curious, as well as appraising. With her strategy of keeping her mouth shut and ears open in mind, she swept her eyes over the rest of the table.

"Ginevra, meet my sister. She is the eldest after me," Romilda's introduction cut Ginevra's musings short.

Romilda's younger sister, Selena, was almost identical to her. Selena was slightly fairer, her hair more of a dark chocolate than a midnight black.

"It's a pleasure, Lady Belby," Ginevra said politely.

"And to you. My sister has told me all about you. I thought she was exaggerating of your beauty, but I see she has not. No wonder you've already had a run in with the king himself!"

That caught Ginevra off guard, and her eyes flashed to Romilda, who was looking at her sister in shock, suddenly looking uncomfortable.

"I beg your pardon?" Ginevra asked.

"Oh, didn't you? Romilda told me the king went out of his way to walk you to your rooms one night when you were lost..."

Again, Ginevra was caught off guard. "Well, yes, that's true. But how did you-?" She looked at Romilda questioningly, and Romilda cut her sentence short.

"The king told me about it the morning after, Ginevra dear. But now-" she looked back to her sister pointedly, "-is not the time."

Ginevra could see the wisdom in Romilda's words. They were indeed surrounded by people that could easily tune into their conversation at any moment. Still, the fact that Romilda had known about Ginevra's run in with the King was suspicious, and the fact that the King had been the one to tell her was shocking. The fact that the king had found her worthy of mentioning was something Ginevra had not even considered.

Her eyes flickered back to the head table, resting on the King. She was surprised to find his eyes were resting on her as well. The way he was looking at her, as if he had just heard their entire conversation although Ginevra was well aware that was impossible, made Ginevra grin. The king followed suit, and Ginevra felt bold enough to wink at him.

Unfortunately, their silent exchange was interrupted by someone drawing the king into conversation.

The night moved on slowly at first, the hall buzzing with excitement and voices. About an hour into the festivities, food magically appeared on the plates that had been sitting before them.

Ginevra stayed mostly quiet during the meal, listening to the conversations around her. Lord Slughorn, whom Ginevra remembered Romilda speak of earlier, was particularly interesting. He spoke of current political affairs, which Ginevra, having grown up in the peaceful country, was not as aware of as she wanted to be.

"This is the calm before the storm, let me tell you. The old king managed to grasp a firm hold on northern Ireland, but King Draco has been too lax on them in his reign; Irishmen forget who they answer to if you're not quick to remind them," he said loudly, speaking with Lord Diggory. Ginevra had watched him refill his goblet multiple times already. His wife, a mousey looking girl, looked embarrassed and remained silent as well.

"Too true. I've heard rumors though, that some townsfolk from outlying areas have been crossing the border and sacking Irish towns. The crop failed last season, some people down there are getting desperate."

"Those people are fine! The king has always made sure his people are at least fed; hungry people revolt. No, if Englishmen are sacking Irish towns it's to do what the King refuses to! You know, lately there has been talk of rebellion."

"Lord Slughorn, with all respect, people of your generation hold a great grudge against the Irish. Would it not be easier if we find peace with them instead of carrying on this mutual despite?" Lord Diggory asked, and Ginevra fought to not roll her eyes. He seemed quite a good spirit, but despite that and his good looks, Ginevra found his 'can't-we-all-just-get-along?' attitude rather tiresome.

"Why not ask the one of the gentler sex's opinion?" Lord Diggory suggested, before turning to her. Lord Slughorn seemed surprised, but didn't object. She suddenly noticed everyone seemed to look at her, and considered her words carefully.

"The way I see it, both parties are wrong. Northern Ireland agreed to obey to English authority, and talk of rebellion is unacceptable. On the other side, Englishmen breaking agreements that the King made with Ireland is an act against the King," she said, being sure not to mention what she thought should be done to them.

Her answer seemed sufficient and as her eyes scanned the people around her, she saw several people impressed with her point of view.

"Well look at that, Cedric! You've got your eye on a girl that's beauty and brains!" Slughorn said, as he began to laugh. It was a booming sound, and she looked around to see several people from other tables looking over in their direction. "Tell me, flower, what is your name?"

Ginevra didn't even blink, "Ginevra, Lord Slughorn. Ginevra Weasley."

"Ah, I should have guessed! You're Charles and William's youngest sister, are you not?"

"Yes, they are both my dearest brothers. Do you know them?" Ginevra asked, though Ginevra knew he did. From her letters with both Charles and especially William, Ginevra knew Lord Slughorn as a successful potions master that worked closely with the royal family. He was born with no claim to aristocracy, but the old king had granted him a title and land as a respected friend of the crown.

"Your brothers are respected associates of mine. I especially enjoy William's company, I wish he would have stayed around for the season."

Ginevra laughed. Unlike Charles, who was balding and slightly overweight, William was handsome and well maintained. "He wrote me when he heard I would be attending for the Season saying that although he would miss me, nothing could make him stay and be harassed by the hens of Court," Ginevra explained. "I told him if he doesn't find a wife soon, I'll find one for him."

Again Slughorn laughed, and they continued on in a stimulating conversation until they were interrupted by a servant approaching them. Ginevra looked up, and saw that the servant carried a tray of fruit arranged to look like flowers. Ginevra never thought food could be art until that moment.

"For you, Lady Ginevra. From his Majesty," the servant said to her, and Ginevra's eyebrows shot up. The servant placed the tray of fruit before her, before quickly making his departure. Ginevra first looked at Slughorn, who had been the only one close enough to hear what the servant had said. He looked at her curiously, back down to the tray, and then to her again. He seemed to have lost his words, and Ginevra allowed herself to look at the King.

She found him staring at her with intensity she could feel the heat of across the room. Her breath caught, and her already constricted lungs suddenly felt tighter. The King's eyes fell to the tray, and then back up to her.

For a moment, Ginevra wondered what kind of game she found herself suddenly caught up in. Then, before she was fully aware of what she was doing, she picked a strawberry from the tray and brought it to her lips. Her eyes darted back to the king, who was still watching her like a hawk. Ginevra bit into the sweet fruit slowly, savoring the flavor on her tongue, ignoring the juice that trailed down her chin.

She almost felt silly, but as she watched the king she really didn't care. He was looking at her like she was the only person in the room.

It was brought to her attention that she wasn't, however, when she felt a light tap on her shoulder. She looked up and was greeted by the face of the handsome man she'd seen at the head table earlier. She put the strawberry down on her tray, and wiped her chin with her napkin quickly. Her heart was hammering when she looked back to the man standing before her-had anyone seen the silent exchange? She could still feel the charge of it in the room.

"Greetings, dear lady. I know this is bold, but I noticed you from across the room. I was wondering if you'd honor me with a dance?"

Ginevra was overwhelmed. Her interaction with the king left her slightly unwound, and the next thing she knew a dark haired stranger with the greenest eyes she'd ever seen was asking her to dance. She hadn't really expected dancing to be a part of this night's festivities, but as the night wore on, some of the tables had been magically removed and music had started, which eventually led to dancing.

She was keenly aware of people looking at her now, and could think of no reason to not dance with this handsome stranger. He held his hand out to her and she extended hers. He smiled and began leading her to the dance floor.

As she allowed herself to be dragged off, she stole another look over her shoulder at the King. He was still watching her.

. ... .

"I saw you talking to Slughorn for quite some time earlier," the man said, as they began to dance.

"Did you?" she asked, wondering how long he had watched her for. Even as she danced with him, she couldn't shake the image of the king. She needed to gather herself. "He's a wise man. A little bit of a drunk it seems, but good all the same."

"Indeed. You perceive people quickly, it seems," he said, with a charming smile.

"And who do I perceive now? You'll have to forgive me, I'm new to Court and I'm not familiar with who is who quite yet," she said, but she had a feeling. She wasn't going to guess and be wrong.

"My apologies, dear lady. My name is Harry Potter, Duke of Cambridge. It was most presumptuous of me to have expected you to know." He was smiling, and Ginevra found it contagious.

"Duke of Cambridge? How impressive. Whatever are you doing, dancing with a girl of such modest roots?" she asked teasingly. He replied by twirling her, and dipping her low to the ground.

"There's something to be said about modest roots, Ginevra Weasley," he said quietly, mere inches from her face. "They grow into beautiful flowers." He returned her upright just as the song ended. She breathed heavily, and it wasn't just due to how dancing in a corset made it almost impossible to breathe. They broke apart to a respectable distance, and Ginevra smiled.

"Thank you for the dance, your Grace," she said, trying to keep the breathlessness out of her voice and failing.

"The pleasure is all mine, sweet lady," he took her hand and brought it to his lips. They were soft on her skin, and she felt a jolt in her stomach. Speechless as she pulled her hand away, she turned quickly and made her way back to her table. She desperately wanted to find Romilda and excuse herself for the rest of the evening; the excitement of the night left her feeling dizzy and tired.

The party seemed to be in full swing, however, and neither Romilda or Theodore were anywhere to be found. She sat down at an empty table in the far corner of the room, far away from the crowd. Exhausted, she grabbed a roll of bread from the table. She had been too nervous to eat much earlier, when surrounded by people. Now her stomach grumbled uncomfortably.

"There is much to be said about a woman who can tell what I'm thinking about from across an entire banquet hall," came a voice from behind her. She had only heard it once before, but she remembered it instantly. It made the hairs on her arms stand up straight.

"It's not that difficult when someone thinks as loudly as you do, your Majesty," she replied smoothly, without turning around. He came around in front of her, taking a seat.

"Is that so? Most would say they find me difficult to read," he replied, without skipping a beat.

"I suppose I'm not one of them. To me, you're an open book, your majesty," she wasn't sure what possessed her to say that; maybe the wine she had had at dinner, or maybe it was all the dancing that left her feeling bold and desirable all of a sudden.

Her eyes glanced towards the crowd of people. Where her and the King were seated was off to the side, behind where everyone was dancing and congregating. The centerpieces of the various tables mostly disguised their corner. Ginevra was glad, for the first time all night, she felt like she was away from prying eyes.

"An open book, you say? I wonder, my lady, what kind of a read am I?" the king asked, in an almost a mockingly flirtatious manner.

Gathering her brazenness, she placed her elbows in the table, leaning towards him. Their eyes met, golden caramel and liquid silver, and Ginevra held his gaze for a moment before answering.

"I can't tell, your Majesty. I've only barely gotten through the first chapter. But, I don't have to read far to know what the plot line is," she said softly. The King looked at her inquiringly.

"And what might that be?"

"Oh, don't you know? If you don't, I really can't tell you. Such things are normally kept secret, especially from the main character," she grinned as she mocked him. Was it just her imagination, or was the king leaning towards her more than he had been a moment ago? Was he getting closer..?

"A secret? Oh, but Ginevra I do believe you owe me one of those."

_Touché, _Ginevra silently applauded. "I suppose that is true..." she said, and then looked up at him through her lashes. "I suppose if you really must know, it's about a man who was born with the world on his shoulders," Ginevra spoke in a whisper, as if this was truly a secret he was not supposed to know. "Whenever he stood still, it buried him deeper and deeper. As he grew older, he learned to keep moving to keep himself above the surface," she was enchanting him now, she could see it in his eyes. He was looking at her the way someone looks at a beautiful piece of art. "The more he keeps moving, however, the more he tries to figure out if he's moving away from something he doesn't want or towards something he doesn't know he needs."

The King found himself speechless by this girl. This _girl_, born and raised in the country, away from the politics and responsibilities of palace life-when did they start making girls like this in the countryside? From the first moment he saw her, that night she ran into him in the hall, he found his thoughts straying to her. She was so fresh, and free, and _pure. _He had seen a light in her that night he had not seen in someone in a long time.

He had even told his cousin's wife about her. Romilda, that conniving woman; he had not been surprised to hear shortly afterwards that Romilda had begun to sponsor the girl. Romilda was never a fan of Astoria, and Draco knew that she had hoped having Ginevra at such easy access would cause his eyes to stray again.

To be honest, Draco must admit that Romilda knew him almost too well. She had been a major part of his life after her marriage to his cousin. He had even grown to trust her enough to send Scorpius to live with her at her estate after his birth, knowing that Romilda's watchful eye would protect him from danger. He'd fallen into her trap more easily than he'd ever admit; the moment he saw Ginevra tonight, how beautiful she looked, it was over. He was interested in her, and he didn't just take interest in anybody.

He had sent her a tray of fruit. He watched her reaction from afar, pleased with the surprise on her face. He had made sure to wait until she looked up at him, and felt a pull in his stomach at the gaze he received back from her. His eyes traveled down to the fruit, and then back to her. The air between them seemed to connect them, sending a charge down both ways.

Ginevra slowly picked up a piece of fruit, bringing it to touch her lips. She looked back up at him, her gaze so questioning and _innocent_, Draco didn't know if he could take it. She didn't look away as she bit into the fruit, and Draco watched as juice trailed down her chin. By now, he was painfully aroused; the simple act of her eating a strawberry was one of the most sexual things he had ever witnessed.

They were interrupted by none other than Harry Potter, and although Draco was annoyed, he was used to Potter interrupting his fun. He was pleased to note that Ginevra seemed slightly shaken and that she stole one last look at him before being dragged off.

"I thought you were into blondes, Draco," Blaise's voice appeared by his side, questioning.

"I thought so too, Blaise," Draco responded easily, feeling no need to lie to his trusted advisor and best friend. "Guess we were both wrong."

And that was how he found himself here, across from one of the most beautiful girls that had ever walked into his palace's threshold. He wasn't exaggerating either, the entire Court had been buzzing about the girl that night. From her skin, to her hair, to her makeup, even the way she held herself. The feline grace she had shown when dancing with Potter had had some of the more raunchy of gossipers reeling; this unknown girl was making a bigger splash on the court scene than he had ever seen in such a short time.

The king had been silent for some time, and Ginevra was growing nervous. "Your Majesty? I'm sorry, I was much too bold-" she said, horrified, as she made to move her elbows off the table and draw herself back. He stopped her with a hand on her forearm, and she froze.

"No, Lady Ginevra, that's not it. It's just-you're very intuitive, you see? Has anyone ever told you that?" he asked, his voice gentle. "It's almost...unnerving."

"I meant not to make you uncomfortable, your Majesty. I warned you that telling the main character his plotline wasn't a good idea," she said shyly, looking down at where his hand was touching her.

"You did not make me uncomfortable, dear lady," he said, as he reached out with his other hand, hooking a finger under her chin and lifting her gaze to his. Ginevra's heart hammered in her chest wildly as he began to lean in closer to her; she definitely wasn't imagining it now. The king was going to kiss her, and she was going to let him. Her eyes closed of their own fruition, and she let out a silent sigh.

"Ginevra! There you are, I've been looking all over for you!" came a voice Ginevra instantly recognized as Romilda's. She jumped nearly a foot in the air, and her and the King parted quickly. The reality of the situation that Ginevra found herself in suddenly appeared before her; she had been about to kiss the king! The king who happened to be _married_, by the way-what was she _doing?_

By the time Romilda approached them, she was wearing a curious look. Ginevra and the King had parted before Romilda could see anything too incriminating, but the guilty looks on their faces gave them away.

"Oh, your Majesty. So this is where you ran off and hid to. There are several who are looking for you," she said smoothly, a smile on her face.

Taking the queue, the King rose to leave, but looked at Ginevra once more before departing. "I enjoyed our conversation, Lady Ginevra. Do make sure we keep each other's company, yes?"

"Well, its not as though you don't know where she's staying, is it?" Romilda interjected before Ginevra could say anything. "You are the King, you can summon her whenever your heart desires. Now back to the games, loverboy. You've got appearances to uphold."

Draco grinned at Romilda's rough manner, and bowed his head slightly to Ginevra before making his exit. He saw Ginevra flash a smile just as he turned to leave, wishing he could have had just five more minutes alone with the redhead.

As the King departed, Romilda turned the full power of her gaze onto Ginevra. "Here I thought I'd have to hold your hand all night. Look at you, joking with Slughorn, dancing with Potter, whispering with the King. You're more impressive than I gave you credit, Lady Ginevra. Now, we must retire to our rooms. Tomorrow morning, we shall have a talk, you and I."

. ... .

**Please tell me what you thought! Your reviews are what keep me going. Hope you enjoyed and stay tuned!**


	7. Chapter 7

**Author's Note: I bring you the seventh chapter of Unexpected Peculiarity! This chapter isn't a chapter of things being done, but more of questions being answered and things coming into place. Dare I say it is more of a filler chapter-but do not fret! It is the longest one yet. I do hope you enjoy and continue to leave me lovely reviews that keep me going while I'm writing the next one. I must say that I reread every single one about a hundred times throughout the whole process.**

**. ... .**

The walk back to their rooms after the Welcoming Banquet was a quiet one. The silence between Ginevra and Romilda was almost tangible, and both chose to wait until the morning to address it.

For Ginevra, the night had been over stimulating and her head was spinning with the situation she found herself in. The two entered Romilda and Theodore's suite, and Romilda showed Ginevra to what room would be hers.

"Sleep well, Ginevra. We'll have a chat in the morning, I assure you," Romilda said, as she closed the door to Ginevra's room.

Ginevra stared at the door Romilda had left through for a moment, "You bet we will, Romilda," she muttered quietly. She then sighed and looked at the room around her. Like the rest of the Romilda's suite, this room too was stylishly decorated. It seemed to have an ocean theme to it, and Ginevra's nose crinkled slightly. It clashed with her personality.

Beggars couldn't be choosers, however, and Ginevra began the process of undressing. Her dress fell to a pool around her legs, and her hose appeared shortly afterwards. The only thing she couldn't get off was the blasted corset. The dreadful thing had strings and hooks and all sorts of damnable means to thwart her attempt to remove it from her body, and eventually Ginevra gave up. She was almost used to the feeling of it by now, and she was so tired she couldn't stand to try any longer. She wondered why Romilda had not helped her or at least sent a servant to do so, and the paranoid part of Ginevra wondered if the woman was hoping she'd suffocate in her sleep.

As she crawled into her bed, Ginevra let out a sigh of contentment at how soft the mattress was underneath her, like sleeping on a cloud. She had thought that she would sleep as soon as her head hit the pillow, but she found that the excitement of the night still flowed through her veins and she was unable to drift off.

Instead, she stared up at the canopy over her bed, trying to wrap her mind on all that had happened that night. King Draco had singled her out more than once that night, for reasons that Ginevra didn't quite understand. Ginevra had learned things tonight that had given her some of the answers that she had been looking for, but those answers just led to more questions.

Romilda, for example. For all Ginevra liked the Duchess, and despite how thankful she was to her, she couldn't exactly say she trusted her. From the moment the Duchess offered to sponsor her, Ginevra had felt like it was just all too good to be true.

That suspicion had been confirmed when Selena had mentioned Ginevra's encounter with the king the night before, and Romilda revealed that she had known all along. The _king _had spoken to her about it. Ginevra couldn't help but get butterflies every time she thought about that part, but despite the bothersome flutters in her stomach, she knew that that was why Romilda had picked her.

This led Ginevra to more questions. What kind of game was her generous sponsor playing? The King was a married man.

_That wasn't what you were thinking when he was about to kiss you, _came a snide voice the back of Ginevra's head, making her cringe. It was true, she definitely had not been thinking of his vows earlier. What _had _she been thinking about? _I was thinking about the way he had been looking at me all night, the way he had been looking at me when he touched my arm..._The electricity she had felt earlier came back with the memory, and Ginevra felt a shiver go up her spine. Happily married men didn't look at other women that way.

That thought stewed in Ginevra's mind for a while, until eventually she succumbed to the weight of sleep.

. ... .

"Oh, Ginevra, wake up! Wake up!" came Romilda's voice, much too early for Ginevra's liking. Ginevra groaned, rolling over to face her and rubbing her eyes tiredly.

"What?" she asked groggily.

"You are a lovely ray of morning sunshine, aren't you? Normally I'd let you sleep after a night like last, but you've begun receiving tokens! I can barely believe it myself," Romilda said, in an impressed tone. "Throw on a robe and come out. You must see this!" With that, she left the room abruptly.

Her curiosity sparked, Ginevra quickly got out of bed and got a robe out of the wardrobe. Still bleary-eyed and yawning, Ginevra walked out into the main room.

Her mouth dropped open at the sight before her. Seven flower vases sat in one corner, with a small pile of small packages in the middle of them. Ginevra looked at Romilda in disbelief.

"All of those are for me? Whoever are they all from?" she asked, incredulously.

"The flowers are from the king, as well as one if the packages. He's also extended an invitation for you to join him on an outing tomorrow," Romilda informed her.

"An outing?" Ginevra repeated nervously. The thought of being around the King again made Ginevra both excited and slightly nauseous.

"Yes, an outing. There are also tokens from Lord Potter and Lord Diggory, to name a few. And one from Horace as well, with a note to join him in a 'friendly' conservation and tea sometime," Romilda looked sideways at her. "You sure have made an entrance. I knew you would make things interesting this Season, but I didn't expect it to happen so quickly. I thought I was going to have to train you in the ways of Court, but you seem to come by it naturally."

Ginevra looked at her for a moment, considering her reply. "I suppose one could say that," she said smoothly. "That would explain how I know you didn't choose to sponsor me out of the goodness of your heart, your Grace," the words came out quickly, for Ginevra was not in the mood for dancing around the subject that both of them knew was on each other's mind.

"Of course not, Ginevra. That is the first rule of Court; nothing ever is done out if the goodness of anyone's heart. There's always some kind if catch," Romilda replied easily. Ginevra fought to keep herself from narrowing her eyes. She did not want to anger the woman, she simply wanted to see what Romilda was up to, but she still did not like to think of herself as a pawn in someone else's game.

"So what is the catch?" Ginevra inquired.

"The King has taken interest in you, Ginevra. That is not something that happens often."

Ginevra looked blankly at her. "What does that have to do with anything, your Grace? I'm here to find a husband, not chase a married king!"

"You certainly didn't seem opposed to the idea when it was your own last night, Ginevra dear."

Ginevra felt herself blush. "That-That is not the same thing!" Ginevra replied, flustered. "He's _married."_

Romilda sighed impatiently, "Look, Ginevra, Draco is very dear to me. If you haven't heard it by now, the King's marriage is not a marriage of love. He married the Queen Consort at sixteen as a political statement," she said, matter-of-factly. "And now, ten years later, the Queen Consort has yet to produce an heir. Her position is declining, and Draco grows sicker of her every day."

The fact that Draco's marriage was an unhappy one was not difficult to believe. Ginevra had seen them at meals together; not touching, not looking, and definitely no speaking. Almost as if the other simply didn't exist.

"What are you suggesting, your Grace?" Ginevra asked quietly. She could feel herself becoming angry.

"I'm not suggesting anything, dear. Why are you becoming so hostile?" Romilda asked, and Ginevra was surprised with how much the concern on her face looked genuine. Ginevra turned her back on the woman, choosing to stare out the window than to keep looking at her. "I'm merely saying," Romilda continued, "that having a King take interest in you never hurt anyone."

At the last part, Ginevra whipped back around. That was it. "Oh really, your Grace? The King's interest has never hurt anyone? I'm sure Azure Laroche would take offense to that," Ginevra said, and she could hear the venom in her own voice. "Oh, but wait! She's dead. She's not taking _anything _in offense anymore."

Ginevra was pleased to see that the fake concern on Romilda's face was replaced by genuine shock at her statement. "How do you know about-?"

"Oh, never mind how I know about her, Romilda. All that matters is that I do. I know about her, I know about the King's _son_. Is that what you want from me? Is that why you sponsored me? So you could try to use me as some kind of axe to come between the King and Queen Consort?" Ginevra asked, forgetting all social etiquette. "Because if it is, don't insult me. Just tell me. I'm not stupid and I know I'm involved."

Romilda was silent for some time, simply staring at the redhead. When she had been formulating her plan in her mind, she had forgotten to consider that Ginevra might not be open to it. Of course, she had not known then that Ginevra was as perceptive as she was, which was already proving to be difficult.

Ginevra stared Romilda down, until eventually the older woman sighed. "Alright, Ginevra. Alright. But you mustn't be upset with me, there is a lot of things that are factors here and you don't know all of them," Romilda told her. "Its no secret that Astoria and I aren't exactly friends. We've never gotten along, and when Draco was involved with that Azure, I had hoped it would dissolve the King's marriage. Unfortunately, she died in childbirth and any chance of removing Astoria from her place died with her."

Ginevra listened, trying to control her temper. Nothing that Romilda had just said answered any of her questions, so she remained silent.

Taking her silence as a cue to continue, Romilda cleared her throat. "When Azure died, Scorpius was just a little baby. And what a sweet baby he was, hardly ever cried, always smiling. Draco was distant from the child-he was his son, and he loved him, but with the death of Draco's love coming hand and hand with his arrival, it was too much for Draco. I mostly watched after young Scorpius. Theodore and I have yet to conceive, and I took him in as my own," Romilda explained, and despite not having any answers yet, Ginevra felt sure that they were coming and started to become interested.

"He lived at the palace for a few months after his birth, until one night I found Astoria in his nursery. She was the only one around, and she was standing over his crib, staring down at him. The look in her eyes was one of loathing, and in that second I hated her more than anyone because I knew, I _knew_, that she would do anything she could to destroy him. You see, Scorpius is so much more to her than a symbol of Draco's love for another woman. He is a constant reminder of what Astoria cannot do. She cannot produce an heir, and so her position as Queen is never secure," Romilda sighed again, and moved to sit down at the table. Ginevra, who was now curious for the rest of the tale, sat down across from her.

"After I told Draco what I had seen, he decided to send Scorpius away for his own protection. He knew what Astoria was capable of, especially to a small infant. Theodore and I took him to our estate in York, and there we have been for the majority of the last five years. Last winter, Draco wrote us inviting us to live in our suites for the Season, and to bring Scorpius home. The fact that he wanted us to bring him back here can only mean one thing-Draco is positive he will never produce and heir with Astoria. And with that in mind, Astoria's position of Queen Consort has never been so delicate. And Scorpius has never been in more danger."

Ginevra waited for Romilda to continue, but she didn't. "But your Grace, I still don't understand what you expect me to do. I'm not the kind of lady that makes illegitimate heirs with married men, let alone married _kings_. While I'm truly sorry the King's marriage is less than desirable, I have my own family to think about. I need someone who can marry _me_, hopefully someone who can love me, but how am I supposed to do that when my reputation is ruined by chasing after the King?"

Romilda smirked, and the mischievous glint appeared in her eyes again. "Ginevra, I promised to find you wonderful, rich, handsome suitors when I started sponsoring you, and what do you have now?" she looked over at the pile of tokens and the various bushels of flowers, and then back to Ginevra. "Look Ginevra, I saw the way you and the King kept stealing glances at each other last night. I saw the look on your face when you saw him, and I saw the look on his face when he saw you. There's obviously something there," she said, trying to sound reasonable. "You're right, you chasing after the King would ruin your reputation. But the King chasing after _you_, well now, that's a completely different story. Having a King as a suitor not only means having his attention, but all the other men in Court's attention too. If you work the situation right, the Courts opinion of you will only go up, not down."

"And how do you suggest I do that?" Ginevra asked skeptically.

"Oh, it's simple. Any gifts the King gives you, regretfully refuse them, especially if it's around others. Most likely the King will insist, but the fact you try to refuse the gift of a King will get you points. Do not go out of your way to see him, let him find you. Never speak a word of you and the King's relationship to anyone. In fact, when people start to notice and wonder, act as if they're making something out of nothing," Romilda advised.

Ginevra could not believe she was even considering this. This was a dangerous game Romilda had brought her into, and if anything were to go wrong, it would be Ginevra that got burned, not her. Still, Ginevra could not deny that Romilda was right; out of all the men that Ginevra had been acquainted with the past few days, the King had definitely been the one she was drawn to most.

"And you will have other suitors, Ginevra. I just want you to consider what I've told you. I have not seen Draco look at someone the way he looks at you since Azure. Is it terrible that I'm hoping somehow he can be truly happy with someone other than the Queen Consort?"

"No, it's not terrible but it is rather treasonous.."

"Well that's the beauty of our conversations, Ginevra," Romilda said, with a hint of warning in her voice. "They stay between you and I."

. ... .

After her conversation with the Duchess, Ginevra was instructed to wash and get ready for the day. She was exhausted and would have liked nothing better to have sit around all afternoon with a good book, but that was not on the agenda. Tonight was yet another ball, one where the girls debuting into Society would stand and curtsy before the King. It was the official welcoming of the girls, the night where they could start being seriously courted by their suitors.

It almost seemed too daunting to consider for Ginevra. Although she was not sure why or how, it seemed as though she had caught the eye of almost every eligible bachelor at Court. Throughout the morning, as Ginevra bathed and prepared for the day, there had been several more visits to Romilda's suite by servants bearing tokens from their masters. If tonight would be the night that all her suitors would begin approaching her seriously, Ginevra wondered if she could handle it.

After being forced into the corset again, Ginevra was surprised to see yet another one of Romilda's dresses laid out for her. She frowned when she saw it, wondering if she would ever get to wear any of the clothes that Charles had spent so much money on.

Looking down at the dress, she was surprised at its simplicity. It was a white gown with a thin slip, and the length of the dress was made of a sheer fabric that whispered when she walked. As Ginevra sat down in front of her vanity, she debated on putting on the various assortment of makeup that sat before her. At home, she had only worn it on the most special of occasions. Here at Court, however, she had never seen anyone but the servants go without it.

_I've already been forced to play her games and wear her clothes and corset, _Ginevra thought, thinking darkly of her sponsor, _I simply refuse to be forced to wear her make up. _

At least until tonight. After her conversation with Romilda that morning, Ginevra was looking to push her boundaries. She skipped over the different shades, powders, and stains, deciding to twist her bangs into the rest of her hair and pin a flower behind her ear. After finding a white shawl for her shoulders that worked well with the dress, Ginevra heard a knock on the door.

"Ginevra, dear? I've got a few things to do around the castle. Would you like to accompany me?" Romilda asked, peeking her head into the doorway.

Knowing that the question was not a question at all but a politely worded order, Ginevra stood from her seat at her vanity. "Of course, your Grace."

. ... .

The beginning of each and every Season was the bane of Draco's existence, not that that mattered. Not only was his home suddenly the home of almost every important noble in his kingdom, but his home was the epicenter of all sorts of grandiose affairs that interrupted his daily routine. He had to appear at this feast, talk to these nobles at this event, and make a speech at this ball.

To make it even worse, Astoria was the gem of all these events. If she could do nothing else, she could throw a good party and raise a hell of a lot of money for a cause. People liked her, but Draco knew the reality of how fragile her position was with them. Astoria was perfect in every way except the most important way; after ten years of marriage and seven years of reign she had yet to give him an heir. The thought made Draco smile a little.

Draco had known his wife and Queen a very long time. He had been thirteen the first time he met her, and she a mere twelve. Draco remembered exactly what she looked like back then; her pale blond hair and fair skin, coupled with blue eyes that seemed almost too large for her face. Even then she carried herself with a cold air of refinement.

She was from the Greengrass family, youngest of one of the most noble lines in both Britain and France. Astoria's father was a wealthy Duke, her mother had been the daughter of a wealthy Count in France and Draco's marriage to her had brought him friendly relations with her French family members. All in all, there had been no better choice for his betrothed and their engagement was announced on her fifteenth birthday as per social custom, though it had been decided long before then.

Their engagement had been a short one, only lasting long enough for invitations to be sent and wedding plans to be executed. Months before his seventeenth birthday he was standing at the end of the aisle, watching Astoria walk towards him, her face shrouded in her white veil. Draco remembered wondering if any other soon to be husbands felt the sense of dread in their stomachs that was growing in his.

The ceremony was a traditional hand fasting, with a high wizard doing the fasting. Both Draco and Astoria spoke out loud that they accepted each other as husband and wife while holding hands, the cord crawling up Draco's arm and down Astoria's. Draco could feel their magicks connecting, his raw power meeting her icy essence. He could feel his magic pulling away from hers immediately, but the power of the ceremony pulled them together irrevocably; once done, the only way to undo this kind of ancient magic was death.

Draco and Astoria had been distant before the wedding. At first, Draco thought that it was due to the fact they had been so young and had not had much choice in their marriage.

After the wedding, however, Draco realized that he had been in completely in denial of the state of their affair. Their first night of marriage consisted first of deafening silence and icy glares from his wife every time he attempted to get close to her.

Several hours passed, and Astoria had retreated to her window seat, staring out upon the earth. Draco had been laying back on the bed, having nothing better to do then stare at her. He remembered how beautiful she was to him, in the beginning. Beautiful, yet distant. She was staring out that window as if she wished she could jump out and fly away.

"I want to leave," she spoke, very suddenly.

Surprised to hear her voice for the first time since their vows, Draco took a moment to reply. "You can't," he said, almost apologetically. He could tell that she was not ready for this.

She stood from the chair with fluidity that Draco would become used to seeing her move with, spinning around to face him. "And why not?"

Draco looked at her strangely. "..Didn't your mother explain this to you?" he asked after a moment.

"If it is not obvious to you already that my mother did not take my wants and needs into consideration, let me tell you this. I did _not _wish to marry you. So no, my _mother _did not explain anything to me," she said acidly, choosing to unleash the power of her glare upon him again. It was then that the frustration of the night finally hit the boiling point for Draco. The reality of his situation hit home; Astoria was not an innocent young girl simply too shy to be close to him. She was a young woman who loathed to be married to him.

"Would you stop looking at me like I'm evil incarnate?" he hissed at her, "Look, I didn't have much choice in this either. You don't know how this works? Well let me explain it to you," he said, rising from the bed and walking towards her. As he approached, she stepped back, which only infuriated him further. "We were just married. The magic from our union, the magic of this very castle, requires that we consummate the marriage. Until that happens, neither of us have the choice to leave this room. If your mother or sister didn't tell you how this works, that is not my problem," by the end of his tirade, he was yelling at her. The thought of being married to someone that couldn't even look at you was enough to light flames in his chest-how could he live like this?

He wasn't expecting the slap that came from the small-framed woman. Even her hand was cold as it assaulted his face, leaving behind an icy burn on his cheek.

"You are completely delusional if you think I'm going to consummate anything with you!" she said with venom before fleeing to the adjoining washroom, where she slammed the door and locked it.

Draco had stood there for a moment, his hand on his cheek. Anger coursed through his bloodstream, and in his rage he took the chair that was next to him and threw it at the washroom door.

"Stay in there all night, my princess. You've got to come out eventually. And you know exactly what's going to happen when you do. I thought I was going to be gentle for your first time but, trust me when I say this, you've just made things a lot worse for yourself around here," he yelled loud enough for her to hear through the door. Silence. "_Bitch_," he said under his breath, as he flopped himself down on the bed.

It was hours after that, when Draco had fallen asleep, that he felt her tiny form crawling on top of him. She pulled down his pants so quickly that it caused Draco to wonder who else's clothes she had taken off in the past.

It was then that their marriage was consummated. Though he might have threatened her in his rage earlier, Draco did everything he could to ease the pain for her. Not that he could do much, she was on top of him and obviously not enjoying herself. After about five minutes, Draco felt water on his chest and looked up at her face; tears were falling from her pretty blue eyes and in that moment, Draco felt disgusting. He willed himself to come, and the moment he did he gently pushed her away.

Astoria needed no further convincing. She sprang off of him like a wildcat, and darted from the room through the door that had magically become unsealed. Draco lay in bed, staring at the ceiling and wondering what just happened. That was never what he imagined his wedding night would be. Her body had not responded to him at all, and the way she cried reminded him of a night that he had caught his father and uncles abusing some servant girl.

Draco sprang out of bed, rushing to the bathroom where he emptied his stomach of the guilt.

. ... .

"Your Highness?"

The voice was that of a child. Draco looked up and his eyes locked with a deep brown gaze. A sense of dread followed, which was unfortunate because it had nothing to do with the girl. She was a pretty thing, no older than nine, with long, white blond hair. Her frame was small and her skin was pale, but dusted with light brown freckles.

"Yes, Amelia?" he asked, with a sigh. Her eyes tighten, as if she heard the dread in his voice.

"Her Highness requests your presence in her chambers, m'lord. She says it's of urgent importance," the young girl said, with a curtsy.

"I doubt that, my girl. If it was so important, she would have come to me rather than send her maid," he told her, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. "But no matter, tell the woman I'll be there in a moment," he said, turning his back to her. He did not hear her retreat but a moment later he looked over his shoulder and she was gone. Draco let out another sigh as he turned back to the view before him.

The Great Lake was calm and timid before him, with only the gentlest ripple due to the wind. It was a fair spring day, one of the first that did not include rain. The grounds were deserted, everyone was inside preparing the castle for tonight's banquet and Draco had decided to take a rare moment to himself. Until Amelia had found him.

The girl was Astoria's favorite maid, but there was something off about her. Perhaps it was that she never seemed to age; she had joined Astoria's maids about five years ago, and she appeared to look the same as the day she had stepped foot on the grounds. Her eyes, however, were what interested Draco the most; brown eyes that seemed to childlike and innocent, yet ancient and endless. It was most unnerving.

That, and she always had an interesting ability to find Draco wherever he was on the grounds. Even in moments like this, where not even his best friend and Advisor knew where he was.

Shaking his head of these stray thoughts, Draco started up to the castle. He made his way to Astoria's rooms rather quickly, he had grown up in this castle and was well aware of secret stair cases and tunnels. Their rooms were both on the seventh floor, and so he snuck through the portrait of a red bearded Viking on the first floor and took the direct staircase there. It was much easier moving in secret through his castle than risk being spotted by various nobles that inhabited his home for the next four to six months.

He exited the portrait on the seventh floor, and went to the doors that led to Astoria's rooms. Her separate rooms. It was a well-kept secret that they did not share their living spaces, due to the fact that they inhabited the highest floor of the castle and no one other than their servants were allowed to step foot on this floor. As he raised his hand to knock, Amelia opened the door for him.

Ignoring how eerie this little girl was, he stepped into the rooms. He looked around for Astoria but didn't look for long. Astoria was sitting on her balcony, back to him, staring out over the land. She appeared to be drinking tea and unaware of him. He made his way to the door that led out to her balcony, when he saw her back stiffen and her head turn to look over her shoulder at him. She then looked back forward and away once he stepped out onto the ledge.

"What is it you want, Astoria?" he asked, with no particular venom, just weary of her changing attitudes.

"Oh, Draco, you could at least pretend to be pleased to see your wife. Come, sit. Have some tea with me," she said pleasantly, waiving to the chair in front of her. Resisting the urge to sigh, Draco took a seat in the chair. Astoria lifted the tea pot to pour him some, when Draco put his hand over the opening of his cup.

"No thank you, Astoria. Can't risk you poisoning me, and I don't particularly feel like calling a food tester up to this floor," Draco said, finally letting a sigh escape his lips. "Now, I'll ask again; what is it you want, Astoria?"

Astoria's ice blue eyes narrowed, but the faintest of a smirk appeared on her lips. "Now, now, Draco. I know that the beginning of the Season is a difficult time for you," she said, and Draco could feel the fake sweetness dripping off her words. "I know very well that it brings back memories that you would much rather forget."

She was speaking of Azure. He could feel it in the slight undertone of loathing that echoed in her voice.

"But I just wanted to remind you of our vows to each other, Draco. You were young and naive when your last discretion occurred, not so aware of the consequences that would befall," she said, almost as if she were trying to comfort him. The exact opposite happened, he could feel anger come to life inside his chest.

"What is it that you're implying, Astoria?" he asked quietly.

"Oh, I think you know, Draco," she said, just as quietly. He could feel her magic leaching on to his, as if trying to draw the anger out of him. With skill that came from ten years of experience, he pushed her essence away from his.

"I think I want you to explain it for me."

She was quiet for a few moments, as she took a sip of her tea. "I saw you and that Weasley girl last night. I know you sent her flowers," she looked at him and for the first time in a long time, Draco saw her perfect little icy exterior begin to crack. "I know that you want to arrange for her to come to your Tourney tomorrow. Romilda is sponsoring the girl on purpose, knowing that you're attracted to her!" she stood up after this exclamation, and Draco could almost feel the angry shudder run up her spine.

"Well, you listen here, Draco. You've already humiliated me once to the Court! And look how well that turned out for both of us. I have _just _gotten back the respect of our people and our Court after that scandal, and if you start this affair with that girl, I will be ruined! There will be no coming back from that, especially if you go off and make yourself another bastard."

At this, Draco stood as well. "I wouldn't need to go and make bastards if my wife knew how to please a man and didn't have a parasitic womb," he said harshly. Astoria fell quiet. "Now, _you _listen, Astoria. Let me clear up one little inconsistency in your thought process. You're under the impression that _I_ owe _you_ something. In case you missed it, I'm still heir less. Until _you _give me an heir, the people do not love you. They merely tolerate you," he could feel himself grinning. He could see the effect of his words on her face; she was shaken. Draco did not often talk to her like this.

"So if I were you, I'd look up some fertility potions if you're that concerned about your station. Otherwise, shut up and look pretty like the Queen you're supposed to be and keep your pretty little nose out of my affairs, Astoria. I'm warning you."

With that, he went back inside. He was pleased with how this encounter went; he hadn't seen Astoria that shaken up since it became knowledge that Azure had been pregnant with his child. Knowing she was worried about her position gave Draco a deep pleasure, even if he knew that she had no reason to worry. The magic that had bound them together at their wedding ceremony was an ancient magic that only came undone in the face of death. While he might despise the woman, he couldn't exactly have her killed. He was not that kind of man. If by some unseen circumstance she were to find herself dead, however, Draco couldn't promise he wouldn't throw the biggest celebration the castle had ever seen.

. ... .

**Author's Note: I know the ending was abrupt, but I figured this would be a good place to stop. Next chapter will feature Ginevra's entrance into society as well as the various attempts of wooing by several different suitors. Be sure to keep an eye out, because trust me, things are about to get scandalous! **

**Please review! (:**


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